Category Archives: Extended family

The Hardest Week of my Life – 2 Years Later

03 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by in Extended family, Thoughts

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This week marks the 2 year anniversary of the hardest week of my life.  Even as I write that, I wonder – was it really the hardest?  Maybe not the most stressful in some ways, but yes, definitely the hardest.

In the span of 5 days I grieved the death of two family members.  My 95-year-old Nanny, whose decline was rapid but somewhat expected, and Dean’s dad – the most loving and wise father-in-law I could ever have asked for, and whose death was the greatest shock of our lives.  With his passing, we became the unfortunate recipients of ‘the dreaded call’ in the middle of the night.

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These days, those memories carry far less sting and heaviness than they have in the past.  Time has helped to heal my grief, although the sadness certainly lingers.  And today, I find myself marvelling at how life overlaps – simultaneously being in memory of people and past – while being in the middle of our busy, multifaceted life.

While I do personally believe that there is a ‘design’ to our lives, and that everything does happen for a reason (although we may not always grasp what that may be), I don’t have gratitude that we have lost loved people from our lives.  When I let myself drop into the memories fully, I feel deeply saddened by missing them.  I wish that my Nanny would still be living in her house in Placentia, Newfoundland when Dean, Ethan, Audra and I travel there for the first time as a family.  And I miss the frequent phone calls from Dean’s dad, his teasing ways, and his standard but heartfelt “Love you, sweetie” goodbye. I miss the yearly visits and great conversations.   I miss Dean’s dad.

Based on my own beliefs, I could draw comfort from knowing that they are in a loving and beautiful place – and I do.  I’m sure that losing someone you love would be an entirely different experience if there was no belief in the concept that our spirits live on.  But I am sad for us – for those of us who miss people who have left.  I am sad for my children – that they had such finite contact with these two prominent people; I am sad for my mom and her siblings and extended family, and I am sad for Dean’s mom.  Losing people leaves a hole that will never be replaced.

No, I don’t have gratitude that we no longer have those people in our lives.  But – I do have gratitude to know that we were able to weather that storm together as a family.  I do take comfort in seeing that other family members also miss their presence, and in doing so, bring us closer together.   I am strengthened by knowing that our kids have witnessed and experienced deep grief, and still found healthy ways to express themselves and grow through the pains.   I admire my extended family, and especially my husband, Dean and my mother-in-law, Diane for the fortitude and resiliency they have shown despite heartbreak.

If it were up to me, and I could bring loved ones back, I would do so.  I would choose to have Dean’s dad in our lives for many more years.  We weren’t ready for his passing, and even now – 2 years later – his presence is missed in our lives.

I wish he were here now to see Audra turn 11 years old tomorrow.  I wish our kids could share with him their enthusiasm over their 3-hour bike adventure today after school.  I wish he could tease Ethan about his long and shaggy hair, and tell Audra to slow down her desire to be a teenager.

I can imagine how our lives could be different if they were still alive.  The loss of my grandmother and father-in-law will forever be linked in my mind, simply because they occurred in such close proximity to each other and they were the hardest losses I have ever experienced.

Two years later sometimes feels like a lifetime has passed.  We have relocated across the country, started our lives over in Nova Scotia, and set our roots deeply into being here for good.  Life has its challenges still –  it is busy, sometimes bringing unexpected challenges, or unanticipated joys.  Life here -now and then – has been both joyful and heartbreaking.

Perhaps that is life, after all.  Good and bad, pain and joy, birth and death -all are natural parts of life.  I for one would rather embrace it all, remembering  each moment poignantly, and being grateful for the time we still have with those we love.

With deepest love and appreciation for everyone in our lives, both past and present – thank you. We love you forever.

 

 

 

A One Way Flight Home

13 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by in Extended family, Our Family Adventures

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“These are happy tears!” I had to call out to Dean as I ran downstairs, laughing while I sobbed. Otherwise he would have looked at me, wondering what had gone wrong.

“I just booked our kids on a one-way flight to Halifax.”

I hadn’t expected this to make me cry. I spent the half hour on the phone arranging their unaccompanied minor flights, happily posted this news on Facebook, stating it was ‘absolutely surreal after 16 years away from home.’ And then I read that statement and something in me let go.

We are going HOME.

We are moving our entire lives across the country. And for the first time in a long time, my tears are happy ones.

It’s been a tough road. We have a life here, amazing friends, great memories, and a practice full of families that I truly love. I have grieved over all of the people we will miss many times, and deeply.

Even yesterday, as I drove home from work with Audra, I had a quiet cry over some of the good-byes I had said that morning. I didn’t think she’d notice the tears on my cheeks from the back seat – but she did.

“Mom, are you crying?” she asked, turning her music off.

“Yes”, I replied.

“Why?!” she asked.

“I’m crying over all the people I am going to miss in my practice,” I said.

“But you’ll get new people in Nova Scotia,” she offered without pause, making me laugh at her quick-thinking and pragmatic mind.

“And it can’t be as hard as all of the times we’ve had to say good-bye to our family.”

WOW. Yes, that summed it up in a nutshell.

It is very hard to go – as a matter of fact, this move might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. In my practice, the outpouring of understanding, mixed with tears and hugs has unexpectedly made this the most humbling experience I’ve ever had. I am humbled to my core to see how much my love for my practice has been very much a two-way street. (And that’s not even touching on the friendships that will now become long-distance.)

The truth is that we are going TOWARDS something that we want more than anything else in the world: to raise our children around family. My heart fairly explodes at the idea that my 4 nieces and 1 nephew are young enough that they won’t really remember a time in their life when Auntie Amy didn’t live nearby. The joy that I feel when I think of all the times Ethan and Audra will get to have with my parents, their cousins and their aunts and uncles is indescribable.

We don’t yet know for sure if we even have a home to move into… (our offer is pending!). I don’t know how long it will take me to build a new practice. There are so many unknowns right now that I can’t even begin to list them all.

But we are going HOME. After 16 years away.

So am I crying tears of joy? You bet I am.

Grieving for Grandpa

06 Tuesday May 2014

Posted by in Extended family, Fully expressed, Life Lessons

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Please be aware that this blog will not be a happy one. I am writing it on what is likely to be one of the most challenging days I have ever faced.

As I type, we are flying across Canada – unexpectedly and heartbrokenly. I am not yet ready to come to terms with the reason we have stopped our lives – nor to look into the deep pit of sadness that I am wishing would lay dormant in my heart.

We have become a statistic- one of those families who gets the ‘dreaded call in the middle of the night.’ We have lost Dean’s dad – our adored Grandpa – to a sudden heart attack.  I am not yet ready to drop down into that pit and feel all of the emotions that are brewing there. It is too raw, and too surreal.

I don’t know what to expect when the plane lands and Dean greets me and the kids. I have no idea what it must have felt like him to arrive home yesterday to a world without his dad. I can’t even begin to imagine how lost his mom must be. And for my own sake, and that of our kids, I can only touch on those thoughts for very short periods of time. If I stay too long, I wonder if my heart might shatter. I want to ‘fix it all’…. and I can’t.

On my end, I’ve had 24 hours between bringing Dean to the airport and this flight taking off with me, Ethan and Audra on board. I’ve found myself bouncing between moments of intense sadness, disbelief, concern for Dean, his mom, his brother and Baba – and uncertainty over how this is going to play out with our family, and especially with our kids.

The reality is that I love Ethan and Audra with a ferocity that sometimes takes my breath away. Like all parents, I want to shield them from all of life’s pain, hurt and disappointment. I want to ease their confusion and grief. But I can’t – and that is so, so hard to accept.

It is in moments like these that I most feel like a she-bear: I fiercely desire – with a deep, primal drive -to protect them at all cost. I wish I could simply growl away or fight off the threats to their wellbeing. But I can’t. The threat this time isn’t a tangible one.

I can’t stop the waves of emotions that have already been unleashed. I don’t know how to prepare them for what is yet to come in the hours, days, weeks and months. I am in completely uncharted waters here.

And yet, that fierce love I have for my kids burns so brightly that it hurts.

I wonder if the hardest part about all of this is the sense of helplessness. I can’t change what has happened. I can’t bring Grandpa back. I can’t speed along the grieving process. I can’t take it away, and I can’t kiss this boo-boo better.

Time. That’s all I’ve got. And love. I will love them through this. I will love Dean through this.  I will love myself through this. I will cushion the blows, dry the tears and listen patiently as they rage through their emotions. I will mother them through it the best I can. In a way, it almost feels like a battle to be fought – and I am preparing myself to hit the ground running – with formidable strength, courage and compassion.

I am already so incredibly proud of them for how they are handling themselves. They have been insightful, honest and wise. They have been sweet, funny and sad. They have been distracted and present, helpful and challenging.

I know that there is no way to prepare for moments in life like these. So I am left to trusting the process, leaning on my own friends and resources, saying ‘yes’ more often than ‘no’ to any requests the kids have of me, and donning my job as a role model as best as possible. This may be one of the hardest times to do so.

And what do I wish to role model for them? Being real, but brave.  Finding appropriate and respectful ways to express emotions. Being thoughtful and kind while still taking care of myself and my needs (after all, I am no good to anyone if I crumble in the process).To be authentic enough to cry and ask for help – while also being a strong shoulder for others to cry on.

I am so incredibly grateful for our long-standing decision to let ourselves be real with our kids, to not shield them from the facts of life – like death and sadness – and for having taught them that they can and will feel every emotion under the sun. And that that’s okay.

And I am so grateful for all of the discussions we have had about life and death, spirituality, and the value of all of life’s experiences.  (Trust me, we are not valuing this experience right now – but one day in the distant future we may be able to look back and learn from it somehow). I am so grateful for the foundation they already have from being surrounded by love – and that they know love to be the most powerful force in the universe. I can only trust that this foundation will help to see all of us through this.

Yes, I love our children fiercely. And while it pains me deeply to see and anticipate moments of great sadness from them – I know that they, too, are strong and courageous, confident in themselves and their ability to face life head on.

Even in the hard times.

Especially in the hard times.

We love you, Grandpa!

 

Nanny’s Passing

30 Wednesday Apr 2014

Posted by in Extended family, Life Lessons

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This morning my Nanny passed away. ‘Nanny from Newfoundland’, as she is referred to in our household. And while I am deeply saddened, and feel the grief from our large, extended, Canada-wide family, there is a part of me that keeps a little smile among the tears. No matter what she may have appeared to be as a ninety-five-year-old woman – I’ll tell you what she actually was: formidable.

After all, at ninety-five years of age, she was still living at home on her own up until a few short days ago. Even with the events of this past year, when against all likelihood, she healed well from a broken hip in the fall, was walking again without assistance, and even got off of the oxygen tank. At 95 years of age, I have to shake my head in wonder.

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At Nanny’s 90th birthday celebration with my sister Andrea

You see, underneath her unassuming appearance lay one of the most determined and pragmatic personalities imaginable. She called life as she saw it, and there was never any false pretence. With my nanny, what you saw was what you got. She cared about the simple things in life and with her, family was always first. As for her own needs, she simply wanted to be at home, in her own bed, and eating her own food. And making her own decisions – as she was fiercely independent.

As a matter of fact, her pragmatic style has long been a source of amusement in our family. For years now when anyone would speak to her about any future plans, her oft-repeated response was, ”Sure, I might be pushin’ up daisies by then, bye!” (imagine this in a strong newfie accent) So of course, when my sister called to tell her that she had booked flights to visit in June with her three girls, that was the expected response. It was a flippant way of stating the truth – that we never know what life is bringing us – and that on her end, she had come to terms with life and her eventual passing.

The smile in my heart is also from admiration. Admiration for a woman who was strong, who knew her own mind, kept her razor sharp wits about her at all times, and was at peace with life and ‘meeting her Maker’. I remember our first scare with her was over 12 years ago, when she had congestive heart failure. I remember planning my wedding that year, anticipating that she wouldn’t be around to see it. AND I remember her remarkable turn around – so that I can also remember her sitting at my wedding, full of life, and writing in our guest book that maybe she’d just stick around long enough to be a great-grandmother. Which she did. Twenty-seven times over – I might add (and one more on the way).

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Nanny with five of her 27 (!) great-grandkids. Halifax, April 2012

 

Yes, my Nanny was a fighter. She lived through world wars, hardship and change. She lived through raising eight kids, losing a husband early on in life, and burying one of her grown sons. In recent years, she has been in and out of the hospital several times – but each time she rallied. And she returned to living at home on her own: which was exactly where she wanted to be.

Not surprisingly, our family has always rallied around her. She has never wanted for care, phone calls, or visitors. In recent months and years, my mom and siblings have arranged their lives to have someone in Newfoundland with her keeping her company, and taking care of any business at hand (which Nanny didn’t always make easy, I might add!… she liked things all done her way) But the love they all feel for this remarkable woman made it a simple decision for her children to fly from all parts of the country to spend weeks at a time with her. She enjoyed visits from her grandkids and great-grandkids from all across Canada. Quite simply, I think she lived for that.

I know, because I saw how she was filled with life and laughter simply by being around her great-grandkids. The last time we saw Nanny was two years ago when I flew to Halifax with Ethan and Audra – expressly for the purpose of having them meet and remember their great-grandmother. It was one of the best family visits in my memory, and one that I will cherish forever.

You see, everything my Nanny did was genuine. There were no contrived appearances: with her, you get what you see. But underneath the slowing body and wrinkled skin was a mind of steel and an enormous heart. Family meant everything to her.

But this time, she was ready to leave.

From what I was told, this is how the story goes: Earlier this week she developed pneumonia. And although she was advised by my aunt – who is a nurse – to go to the hospital, she stated that she would go in the morning. (I’m not sure how that sat with Aunt Paula (the nurse), or my Aunt Joanne (who was staying with Nanny at the time) – but I expect that whatever transpired, they realized that if Nanny had made up her mind to sleep the night in her own bed, there was not much they could do.) In the morning, Nanny stated that she’d go ‘right after lunch’. And after lunch she put on her coat and shoes, sat on a chair and stated that she needed a short while – before announcing that ‘she was ready to go.’

Now, I was not there, and that was told to me second-hand. But I can vividly picture Nanny – calling the shots right until the end. And I imagine – with the intuitive sense of truth – that she knew that this was her final goodbye. I imagine that she knew that she had just slept her last night in her own bed, and eaten her last meal at her own table. I imagine that she knew as she crossed the threshold of her house – the home she had lived in with her husband, the home she had raised their eight kids in, the home whose walls were filled with many decades of memories and several generations of laughter – I am certain that she knew that this was the last time.

And in this simple way, she showed her immense courage. It was in this simple, peaceful way that she lived her life. When I picture this, I am filled with awe for her simple courage, and with peace for knowing that she passed on her own terms. While she may have said that ‘she’d go when her Maker called her’, I have a sense that with her strong and determined mind she somehow managed to set it all up to her liking nonetheless.

My Nanny died in her sleep last night. And while she may not have had many people present at the time of her passing – I assure you that she was absolutely surrounded in love. With great love, sadness and joy, today we say our final goodbyes.

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Wish Lists and Anticipation

24 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by in Extended family, Life Lessons

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As I watch Audra repeatedly pick up a package from under Grandma and Grandpa’s Christmas tree – counting the hours until she gets to open it tonight – I have to notice the difference between our two kids.  Audra can barely contain herself when it comes to surprises, gifts and waiting, while Ethan is the picture of mature patience.

And apparently Audra’s wish list varies based on who she is sending it to.

Her letter to Santa included a microphone, a charm bracelet, and to have her lost mood ring replaced – followed by a question of whether she was on the naughty or nice list…  “please write me back to let me know what you think”.  (She then checked the mail every day for the next week until his letter arrived… which then was framed and hung on her bedroom wall.  “I think this means I’m on the nice list, Mommy!”, she exclaimed with glee.)

However, her wish list that was emailed to Grandma (and Grandpa) included both a Furby and an iPad, with the respective price tags of $70 and $400++.  (Apparently Audra has picked up on who is more likely to fulfill her larger wishes...)  I doubt she will be disappointed regardless of what she receives, hopefully in part because we have been careful to remind both kids not to expect everything on their wish list.

Ethan, on the other hand, doesn’t have a list.  Even now, on Christmas eve, he says that he loves the anticipation of the holidays, and the idea of surprises more than asking for any one particular thing.  When reminded that our trip to Edmonton was a big gift, he nodded in agreement, “That is the best present,” he commented.

When we asked him a month ago if there was anything he wanted, his only question was if it was okay to ask for money to go towards the computer he is saving for.  (“No…”, we answered, admittedly feeling a little weird about a 10-year-old only getting money for Christmas.   Although we’re not sure why that would be age-related… but logical or not, that was our answer for this year.)

“I don’t really care what I get for presents.” he offered.  “Last year I asked for a foosball table and instead got my guitar, which was a total surprise and it was the best present ever!”

From a parenting perspective, it’s kind of funny to see such different extremes in our kids when it comes to gifts and wish lists.  Obviously it falls partly down to personality differences.  And while I am much more inclined to feel like Ethan – loving the anticipation moreso than the actual gifts – as a parent, I also have great joy in witnessing Audra’s barely-contained excitement.

I’d like to think that we have reinforced to them to be grateful for all that they have: a loving family, a roof over their heads, great health, and good food to eat – not to mention the opportunity to spend the holidays with our long-distance family.  However, no matter what the lead-up has been, I fully expect to bear witness to many moments of gift-giving and gift-receiving joy these next few days.

Maybe we can see the best of both worlds: gratitude for our daily lives, gratitude for our time with loved ones… and joy in the presents to top it off.  And in the spirit of kids being kids… they can put those things in whatever order feels best to them.

For me it’s all about the memories we are making.

From Toronto Ice Storm to Edmonton Deep Freeze

23 Monday Dec 2013

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I guess we got out of Toronto just in the nick of time.  With a Saturday flight that left in the midst of rain-on the-brink-of-freezing, followed by news footage of a massive ice storm and lengthy power outages – I am happy to say that our only delays were to de-ice and wait our turn for the runway.

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Ice Storm 2013

Rather than complain about an extra hour on the tarmac, Audra repeatedly squealed with joy at the looming prospect of landing in Edmonton to see her grandparents.  And for at least the past week, Ethan’s first and last comment of the day were often around his excited countdown until we left.  So for us, a delayed arrival was barely a blip on the radar.

All through the week, as I was asked if we were going away, the reactions were often comical when I announced that we were headed to Edmonton.  Usually my answer was followed by one of three reactions: “Oh… pause… I thought you’d be going somewhere else” (possibly Nova Scotia to my family, or somewhere hot, they’d explain).  Or “Brrr!!!  Hope you don’t freeze!”  Or occasionally, a frank “Why would you do that?!”

With a laugh, I’d reply that we were looking forward to spending the holidays with Dean’s parents.  (Although as I’ve said before, we’d be open to meeting family down south one year, too!)  And, I added, I’m really glad that I truly love his parents.

Don’t get me wrong – there’s certainly nothing wrong with Edmonton –  but the frigid winters don’t usually cause it to be a winter holiday destination.  (For the record, after 2 days of being colder than -20, the temperature is rising to just-below-zero for the rest of our stay: Perfect.)  Weather aside, it all fits my plan for the week wonderfully: to hibernate.  Relax, have no schedule, eat good food and enjoy the company of our family.  As I’ve previously blogged about needing ‘A Break from the Daily Routine‘, those are the things that make a vacation for me.

Will our kids watch more TV and movies than at home?
And get ‘spoiled’ in ways that are different from when we are home?

Yes and yes.

But we chalk that up to the novelty of visiting grandparents.  They can shower our kids with love in any form they wish.  Time with them is the only gift that we ask for.

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Niagara Falls Trip with Grandma and Grandpa 2013

The other added bonus is to spend the holidays with Dean’s full-of-life grandmother, Baba.  Well into her ninety’s – she is such an inspiration.  The picture of vitality, she looks decades younger, moves around better than some 50-year-olds I’ve seen, is full of energy and sharp as can be.

Baba with Ethan and Audra 2010

Baba with Ethan and Audra 2010

No wonder our first day included a visit to her apartment, where the kids loved seeing the plethora of pictures on the walls, worked on a puzzle with her, and visited with her 96-year-old sister who lives across the hall.  It was a simple few hours that meant everything.

Our trip to Edmonton will be filled with time with family, and memories that will last forever.  With the icing-on-the-cake agreement to spend one day at the West Edmonton Mall water park and roller coasters, (I will have to override my dislike of malls in December…) but will be sure to bring our waterproof video camera and bathing suit to join in on the fun.

So, Edmonton in December?  It’s got all the qualities I need for a perfect holiday.

My 94-Year-Old Superwoman Nanny

05 Saturday Oct 2013

Posted by in Extended family, Women Empowered

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I just got off the phone with my Nanny. (“Nanny from Newfoundland”, as she is called in our household.)  With her 95th birthday fast approaching, her extended network of family got quite the scare earlier this week when she fell and fractured her hip.  And while it’s still a story in the making, and a real concern considering her age – I must say that I’m getting the impression that she’s getting a bit of a kick out of the adventure.

As the story goes, she was walking from the living room to the kitchen when she tripped.  Despite many attempts by family for her to have help close at hand – or at least a system to call easily for help – in her fiercely independent nature, she passed on all of those options.  So, living alone in a small Newfoundland community, she had no choice but to take matters into her own hands.  She knew that something was wrong with her leg, and while being unable to stand, she began pulling herself along the floor ‘like a seal’ , as she described the ordeal.  After some time, she reached the phone to call for help.

I can’t quite shake the image of my 94-year-old nanny pulling herself along the floor from my mind – and I have to admit, that rather than being appalled that this incident happened, I am awed yet again at what a strong, determined woman I have for a grandmother.  (although that’s not to say that I didn’t share some worried moments/days with many family members at different points this past week.)

The reality of this is that she had to be transported to St. John’s for surgery, which was another ordeal due to other health complications and the very real concern about putting her asleep for surgery.  After a few days, the doctors opted to do the partial hip replacement using only an epidural.  This meant that she was fully awake for the whole time, listening to them ‘hammering, banging and sawing away down there.’  “It sounded like they were building a fence!” she reported.

So today, only a few days later, she took her first steps with a walker.  I don’t know yet what type of recovery is expected, how long that may take, or how long she may stay in the hospital for monitoring.  I just know that her Canada-wide family of 7 living children, 16 grandchildren and 20+ great-grandchildren are all breathing a sigh of relief that she seems to have come through this so well thus far.

And I know that I am certainly not the only one who is shaking my head in wonder at the superwoman that she is.  Wow.

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Me and my sister Andrea at Nanny’s 90th birthday celebration

“The Cottage”

30 Sunday Jun 2013

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I am sitting on the dock at one of my favourite places in the world:  “The Cottage” – a place that we do not own, belonging to our friends Tanya and Mike, and their kids Maya and Owen.  However, after spending every summer of their young lives here, it is a place that our kids consider to be theirs.  When they were younger, they would argue when we told them that ‘we don’t have a cottage’, and that this place that we frequent so often isn’t equally shared amongst us.  (Despite their young cries of ‘that’s not fair.’ or the tattle telling of “Mommy, Maya said that the cottage is hers, and not ours,” expecting me to set the record straight.) Perhaps, like me, it seems that a place that holds some of our best family memories must somehow belong to us – if memories could broker ownership, it certainly has been earned over the past ten years and our friends here are truly loved like family.  Tanya, Mike, Maya and Owen are our “Ontario family” – filling some of the void that distance has created from my sister and brother, nieces and nephews.  I for one – although dedicated to family – also believe that you don’t have to be related by blood to become loved like family.

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In many ways, these ‘adopted members’ of our family have been here for us through every step of this growing-a-family stage of our lives.  For both of our families, we have supported each other through four home births, building chiropractic practices, struggling through life’s challenges, and celebrating the wins both big and small.  We have cottaged together, back-country-camped together, and vacationed together.  Our children have grown up like cousins – complete with squabbles and touching moments of togetherness.

Ten years ago, it all began as I remember sitting on this same quiet dock (albeit a smaller and older version).  I was two weeks past graduating from chiropractic college – but unlike my friends, my thoughts were far from that part of my pending life.  I was weeks away from giving birth for the first time and the prospect of our soon-to-be birth was both exciting and daunting.  At the time, none of our friends had yet started families, and I felt like we were blazing a new trail.

And so, in one of my favourite places in the world, surrounded by water and nature and friends, I remember spending much of that weekend in quiet reflection, journalling, swimming, and going for walks.  Primarily, I was connecting to the enormity of the pending changes in our lives with the birth of this baby.  And although at first I was nervous going 2 hours away from ‘home’ when I was imminently due, by the end of the weekend of being connected to myself and to nature –  I had come to fully trust that this birth was something that I could do.  Three weeks later, Ethan was born – at home, as planned – and our lives as a family truly began.

Fast forward ten years, and our lives have continued to expand.  With the addition of Audra, and Maya and Owen, time has evolved us all.  Now we can sit on the dock and watch our crew swim across to the beach to play.   We can tell them to ‘get a snack’, ‘go play outside’, or do a multitude of independent tasks.  Last night after the kids were all in bed, for the first time in ten years – we adults left the proximity of the cottage to sit on the dock, socializing further away from our sleeping brood – knowing that they were now all old enough to find us if needed.  Instead of planning our days around nursing babies and nap times, we can plan for excursions in the boat to waterski, tube, explore and play.  We watch our kids test new levels, playing harder every given year.  They have all grown through the phases here of being newborns, to taking first steps, first jumps into deep water, and many other evolutions that come with the passing of time.  We watch as they grow in age, maturity and adventurousness  – and wonder at how fast time goes.  Our time as parents has become freer, more playful, and more fun.  The past ten years have flown by, full of such amazing memories.  It never ceases to astound me.

And now my quiet, reflective time on the dock has been wonderfully transformed in the blink of eye as our kids take advantage of an adult on the dock.  The serene water is now rippling with waves from the jumping kids and their cries of joy.  The solitude here lasted longer than I expected – replaced with the wonderful summer scene of water, fun, kids and play.  And I, for one, am grateful for my time here, and the lifelong memories our kids will have of one of the most magical places on earth:  The Cottage.

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Happy to be Home

05 Wednesday Jun 2013

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I am happy to be home.  And by home, I mean back in Ontario with my family.  Although Nova Scotia will always be my home in the heartfelt geographic sense, my true home is anywhere that has my husband and kids.  There is something so very special about how they fill me up, how they look at me with complete love (even while being the ones most likely to witness me at my best and worst), and how being away from them is accompanied by the feeling that a something is missing from inside of me.

These thoughts are coming on the tail end of a whirlwind long weekend in Nova Scotia.  My three days there were action-packed, starting with my choice to stay with my sister (whose husband was away), and who has:

4-year old, curly-haired, expressive and artistic Josie;

2-year-old, never-stopping, always smiling, full of mischief Sammy;

and the newest addition:  Beatrix Amy, my 3 month old namesake who may just be the easiest baby I can imagine.

My 6:15 wake up cuddle

I may add that this was my wake up call at 6:15 – not a bad way to start my day!

We filled our time with family visits with my mom and dad, and several outings with my brother’s kids: my 2-year-old niece Lauren (who still plays a little shy with me – although it may be her dislike of cameras, which I often have close at hand – I feel I have to catch those extra-cute moments when I can get them!) and her baby brother Zachary, who rivals Baby Bea for being the easiest baby around.  (And part of me wonders: Why didn’t I get to experience what an ‘easy’ baby was with my own?! )

During our brief time together we played at playgrounds, went for walks and bike rides, swam in a friend’s idyllic backyard pool, had a picnic and swim at the site of our future family cottage, and spent a morning playing and exploring on the Halifax waterfront.  All of this peppered with great food, family BBQs, quick visits with friends and making the most of my three days of nourishing my Nova Scotian roots.

Suffice it say, my weekend was full and wonderful, but certainly not restful.

The best of it all is that I ‘got my fix’ – both of my very missed nieces and nephew, and of the relaxed and beautiful pace of Nova Scotia.  (And of my sister, parents, and brother too!… but they aren’t quite cute enough as grown ups to factor into the ‘missing-ness’ as much)

But what hit home (excuse the pun) was the sense I had when my plane was landing.  There is great contrast in the natural beauty I see out of the window when flying over the East Coast and flying over the sprawling mass that is Toronto (although it, too, has a different kind of beauty) The sense was that of moving towards what I love.  My family:   Dean, Ethan and Audra.

When I got home Monday night, Ethan and Audra were fast asleep.  So I tiptoed into their rooms (had a chuckle at seeing pictures of me beside Audra on her bed), and kissed my kids, spending a few minutes just looking at them while they slept.  Just seeing them filled me up.  I was complete again.

Even better was waking them the next morning – both times to be wonderfully rewarded by the instant transition from sleepy eyes to shear joy at seeing me.  Amidst ecstatic cries of “Mom!” and tight hugs, I was home again.  I must agree – it truly is where your heart is.

Lessons I Learned from my Mom

15 Monday Apr 2013

Posted by in Extended family, Life Lessons, Women Empowered

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My mom is one of the smartest people I know.  In actual fact, I was hoping to have spent this weekend with her, as it was her birthday.  However, priorities in my own family kept me in Ontario – but with many moments with thoughts of my mom on my mind.

It is absolutely true that some things you just don’t understand in life until you become a parent.  I can’t say that I was ever admonished to “just wait until you have kids” as a means of explaining my parents’ point of view, but suffice it to say that I have gained a greater degree of understanding of my own parents by virtue of being one myself.

In fact, I suspect that same understanding is simply going to grow as I get closer to my own years parenting teenagers.  I myself was a pretty easy kid to deal with – but a difficult teenager.  When I think back on all of the nights of lost sleep and frustration I must have caused my mom during those years, I think (with some dread) of my own pending experience becoming a mom to teenagers.

I have great appreciation for my mom and dad for being the amazing parents that they are, and for the wonderful home life and childhood they provided for me and my siblings.  While acknowledging that motherhood is the hardest thing I’ve ever embarked upon, I have to give credit where credit is due:  to my mom.

Lessons I learned From my Mom:

1- Girls can do anything that boys can do. I will forever be grateful for growing up knowing that I can hold my own, that being a girl is simply a statement of fact – and not a handicap.  And I love to watch that same “girl-power” in my own daughter.

2 – Be fair.  Raised in a family of eight kids, I guess my mom was ingrained with a sense of fairness from early on.  In our family, great care was taken to make sure each of us felt equally and fairly treated (even if the specifics were different, the overall fairness was always evident) I know my mom paid attention to being fair with gifts, extracurricular activities, and every other aspect of life I can think of.

3 – Don’t compare your kids to each other.  I sometimes get funny looks when I tell people that I didn’t fight with my brother or sister growing up.  Let me be clear:  that doesn’t mean that we always got along, but we were never competing against each other for our parents’ attention.  I am quite certain that this is largely due to my parents’ conscious decision to respect us as the individuals that we were, with our own strengths and weaknesses, and to never compare us to each other.  This little bit of wisdom is one that we have adopted in our own family as well – perhaps this is one reason that Ethan and Audra have often played together so well.

4 – Give people space and respect their privacy.  I knew growing up that I could keep my journal or private things out in the open, and that my privacy would be respected.  I knew that my space, my things and my opinions would always be treated with respect.  This in one area, especially as our kids get older, that we plan to reinforce in our home as well.

5 – Listen carefully to every point of view.  My mom is the ultimate ‘devil’s advocate’ – with her mind going a mile a minute, especially in the face of challenges.  But she has always been open to hearing many different points of view and is one of the best sounding boards I know.  I am quite certain it is from being surrounded by this that I learned to always look at situations from differing perspectives – and this has served me very well in my life – especially as a wife and mom.

6 – Buy good quality (but shop for good prices).   I will give my mom some of the credit for the simple joy I have in seeing my kids in good quality things – like good shoes and coats.  I look at them and see dry feet and warm kids – while also happy with the ‘good deals’ I found.  I am especially happy when these choices mean that I don’t have to replace their things every month.

7 – Always read labels.  I still remember grocery shopping as a kid, impatiently watching my mom read labels (decades ahead of her time, I’d say!) When questioned ‘why’, she explained that if you are buying a canned food, the ingredient list should only say that food on the label and nothing else.  Made sense to me – and here I find myself, years later teaching principles of health (and Eating by Design) to people everywhere I go.

8 – Kids should be allowed to just be kids.  We were raised with lots of freedom to just play – and most of that outside.  We were in organized activities, but with a limit on how scheduled we were.  We experimented, explored, tested our limits and learned through play.  There is no doubt in my mind that our approach to parenting has its roots in these same simple beliefs.  Let kids be kids.

9- Do your best in school. As a teacher, my mom understood that all kids have different learning styles and strengths.  I never felt pressured with respect to schoolwork, but was internally driven to always do my best.  For our kids, our intentions are for them to keep their love of learning intact, to nurture their creativity and problem-solving abilities, to never compare them to others – and to instill in them the same sense of always giving their best.

10 – Don’t ever underestimate common sense – and learn to think for yourself.  In many ways it seems that common sense is not so common these days, and independent thought is not the norm.  Instead of blindly following what others are doing, we have taken the lead my parents set to teach our children to use their common sense, think independently for themselves, and to apply their mind in every situation, regardless of what others are doing.  I believe doing so nurtures their own thinking abilities, trust in themselves and ultimately self confidence. (And if I look at all of the ways I have differed from the ‘mainstream’ in many of our choices, I’d say that this tendency to nurture independent thought was a huge influence in my own life)

11 – Kids do what you do, not what you say.  I’d have to say, as a parent, that accepting this statement as truth is to accept why being a parent is such a huge undertaking.  I believe it is possible that there is no higher calling than to nurture and mold a child into becoming the best person that they can be. It is an enormous commitment to accept that you are one of the main role models for another human being, and that they are likely to follow in your footsteps in many ways: beliefs, habits, values and actions.  It calls you to a whole new level of personal awareness and integrity.

As for me, I can certainly say that I learned from a great role model.   On most days I think that I’m a pretty great mom, and on the other “off” days, at least I know that I am still doing the best I can.  I think it’s part of the growth and evolution of each person and generation to blaze a different path than the one before them.  There are many ways that we are doing things differently from how our parents did things.  Fundamentally, however, the values instilled in me as a young child, learning from and being loved by my parents were the starting foundation for who I am.  Living in a home full of love and respect, with a high value on family, has obviously set me on the path I am now on.  And now, with the heightened understanding of time and experience, my appreciation for my parents has only grown exponentially over the years.

For me, being a mom is the most important job in the world.  It is the hardest, and the most rewarding.  And I am forever grateful to my own mom for showing me how to be a great one.

(I love you, Mom!)

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