Time flies when your not paying attention

I remember like it was yesterday. Now don't say you heard that before because I KNOW the odds are in your favor . But it was only yesterday that I wished the day my boys slept past 7 am and now it's here. Not quite how I wished it. That wish came from a sleep deprived mother of two young boys who spent the past 24 hours doing late night diaper changes, making bottles, soothing a sick baby, reading bedtime stories and rocking my boys to bed. All the while thinking I would rather be somewhere else.

Admittedly, I did not take to the baby years as well as others who could not think of any other place to be. I projected my thoughts on what it would be like when my boys were one month, two months, six months, a year usually as I breastfed my little one at three in the morning and yearned more sleep. My youngest brought out my impatience more than the first.

Committed to breastfeeding for six weeks, I counted the days and on his sixth week birthday, I celebrated. Always in a rush for the next step. In the book on what to expected in the baby years, I read ahead months at a time, relishing the new age and the new things my sons would do one day. Truly relishing the future not enjoying the present. Contrasting the changes to occur as my little one lay in my arms, I did not realize it at the time but I was in a rush for no particular reason than to be in a rush and to experience each stage of their little life well informed. I thought, knowing what to expect in the next six months if not just to stay on top of my boys life ideally was what mothers did.

It's now 9 am and my two boys are still sleeping, far from the need of diapers changes or Pablum. They are in need of sleep and rest for the day ahead of swimming, playing outside and from the expended energy yesterday. So here I sit, my home is quiet and I am lonely for their company, their presence, their voices and endless chattering. Sometimes, I quietly enter their rooms to check on them for no other reason than to spend a bit of time with them, even if they are asleep.

So I am no longer in a rush but cherish each moment. No longer reading books on what to expected in the teenage years. I just take each day as it comes and boy it's great.

The Ex Files

Yesterday, I heard a wonderful story of a friend and her ex going on vacation with their children for two whole weeks. Divorced for over ten years, the remarkable thing is that their children are young adults and it was a road trip.

Wow, I admire her experience and told her to share it because not many exes can do this. Some are amicable in the prescience of the children and that usually ends as they become adults. Some cannot bear to even be in each others company let alone drive around the country for two weeks.

I just think this is great. You are not only showing your children civility but the power of family despite being divorced. Poster exes for the masses.

Smile today because you can.

T.M.I.

When is too much information too much. I ask this after more than I bargained from an old college friend. Are there rules that govern how much information to share with others?

Courage

Courage. Such a tangible asset and the markings of great personal strength. I am similar in a way to the lion in Alice in Wonderland. In that, the perception people have of me is that I am a fearless creature but really I lack courage at times. Expect, that is, today. Courage came to me loud and clear and I took full advantage of it. And boy did it feel great.

Courage escapes me when it comes to speaking up for myself in emotional relationships. Not so much in business but in emotional issues, I melt inside. Like this morning, courage spoke about what I want in life and boy it was easier than I thought.

This is not to say, things will work entirely in my favor but the courage it took to put it out there is what I am celebrating. Here's to you: courage. :)

Miracles

Just when you think there are no miracles, life surprises you. Like this morning, most of the Western world learned of the two journalists released from North Korea. Whatever angle you look at it a miracle was produced to get them home.

Miracles come in all shapes and sizes.

I am happy and grateful to live in the free world.

Are we too hard on ourselves

I ask you: are we too hard on ourselves? Yes, I think I am. Today, I ran into a woman the same age as me and she looked terrific. Too curious, I asked her secret with a reply I only heard so many times in the past couple of months. The latest diet fad: Herbal Magic.

She smiles truly proud of her accomplishment of dropping 50 pounds, accepts the compliments and brims proudly. I tell you that's the fifth person I ran into in the past month who dropped in excess of 30lbs. Now, I will let out a little tidbit of information on me, in the past 2 1/2 years I put on 20lbs and feel quiet fat about it. Clothes are tight and snug, my sleep is affected and most of all my morale is down. And I am running out of clothes that fit properly. So, I am on an eating plan with low carbs and a little bit of exercise. But it sounds almost too inviting not to try.

A perfect size nine most of my adult life, I swayed only one size from that after my first child, and only slightly off track with my second. I ate right and exercised when my schedule allowed. Four years ago, I quit smoking and believed I would gain weight and did. Then I stopped watching my eating habits and ate anything I wanted. The result: 20lbs and a lot of great clothes sitting in my closet waiting for me to wear. Is that being hard on myself. I am a size 12 and feel fat.

Are we too hard on our self image? Why do we feel we must be a certain size and look a certain way. Well, mostly it's our self imposed perception and expectations we fall victim too. Is there a day we hear women stating how they want to feel or look? It's everywhere and at times inundating if we allow it. I just think we are too hard on ourselves, putting expectation of how we should look and feel. And we need to learn most of the time life is fine and we are great no matter what size or shape we have.

I think instead of beating ourselves up, we should be proactive in our self image and perceptions of ourselves. Make our own definitions. Imagine mainstream media reported size 12 to size 20 was optimal size for women. That would put a smile on most women's faces. Hah. I say just be yourself no matter what shape or size you are.

Lost Causes or the Patron Saint

In the past seven days, the issue of prayer came up in two of my books, neither were on theology. Humor and hopelessly romantic despondency themed, on women making a change in life. One a book of fiction the other a book on personal self discovery. The more I compare the contents more common themes come to mind. Coincidence? Oprah, God bless her soul, once said there is no such things and I agree. So as I read or should I say devoured the books while on vacation, I marveled on the idea of prayer, so much so, I added a prayer to a God, who ever was listening at the time and one to St Jude, the patron Saint of lost causes, not that a lost cause existed but a prayer never the less for any assistance to help with my issue.

As the pages turned and St Jude became a desperate metaphor in the one book, it made me think of how my little issue could be a lost cause and ammended my prayer accordingly. I love the power of prayer and from time to time I like to use it when necessary. Usually I like solving things completely on my own, independently. But in this occasion, I left on vacation with an aching desire for something to turn out it my favor. So, there not so crazy an idea but much like the heroine in the book, desperate. And so, while in the mountains, I took the time to reflect and pray a little bit more adding details to each one. At one point, I outlined exactly word for word how my prayer should be answered. Talk about being presumptuous, a bad habit of mine.

Seven days later, after piling into my home with luggage, toys, shoes and several insect bites, I took a chance of glancing at the phone. Yes, there was a message. I reviewed the callers and seen part of my prayer was answered but avoided listening to the actual message. Twenty-four hours later, my son pushed play while I showered and happily expressed I had a meeting the next day, to my delight. Half my prayer was answered. So, if my prayer to God and to Ste Jude worked and now I waited for the final results, I impatiently asked in one last addendum for an answer to come by the next day, no sense in letting the suspense eat at me.

Picture my cockiness and over confident self rubbishing through life with my nose in the air. Mind you I did thank the Gods for everything and began thinking of the thank you I would write. In fact it happened today and lst night I went to bed with sugar plum fairies in my dreams. Boy did I get my answer faster than I expected and astonished more so with the results.

So here goes, I thank you St Jude for answering my prayers in a timely and efficient manner and quite surprisingly too and for answering all my future prayers. I may not completely understand how I got what was giveth but I know there is a reason. And in time I will understand. Have a great day in Saintville and keep up the good work.

Birthdays

Is it just me or do most women over 40 feel the same way about birthdays as they do about, let's say, going to the dentist? With another one under the belt this past week, there was little build up to it. I marvelled birthdays past but now with each passing year it reminds me of this analogy a friend said years ago: "Double your age, when we turn 20 we can easily see ourselves at 40, at 30 we can easily see ourselves at 60, 40 is somewhat different, seeing ourselves at 80 is tricky." That puts things into perspective.

This year, I bought my own cake, hot husband with instructions in hand did not buy me anything after the costly microwave repair I took as a birthday present. Imagine, I choose an appliance as a birthday present, this says much. In keeping with the festive mood, the cake made it ways onto the forks of my always hungry boys and the only lingering thought of my birthday was the cards on my table from the boys.

Hot husband gave me a silly card of love, when opened a couple moved and the husband dipped his wife and kissed her. I opened it once and the couple became unglued, falling to the floor. I wondered, is this a sign.

Birthdays were a big deal to me. My mom made me one birthday party when I turned seven. I got a new blue bike and as I went to make my wish, my younger sister blew out my candle. Hence my fascination with birthdays, my sister can attest to it. By the end of the summer my bike made it into the hands of my brother and his friends for parts. Growing up I imagined finding a spouse who would throw me surprise parties to show his undying love for me. For years I would secretly wishing coming home to a surprise birthday party, with my house filled with friends. It didn't happen but a girl can dream. Hot husband is not a party planner but he can throw a very intimate dinner for two together on occasion. I just made an excuse for my husband, ugh.

Birthdays also signified a new beginning, a year ahead filled with hope. That this would be the year things come together, finally. Full of hope and a little fear that things would remain the same. I am not quite sure of what I wanted to change or gain but it was there. I put a lot of stock in birthdays probably as much as people put into New Years resolutions. In my early twenties, I purchased all the magazines for the birthday horoscopes. At times, grudgingly rereading them months later to discover my life swayed in different directions. Hence, birthdays.

Since turning forty, by the way, I threw my own party and celebrated the big 4-0 in style. Birthdays took on a whole new life or lack their of. Sneakingly suspicious, I did an informal poll amongst 40-45ish women and discover my neurosis on birthdays was actually quite prevalent among the group. I summed it up to the next big one is 50, which is the new 30 and I have ever intention of soaking those years up too. So for all those celebrating, I mean just having another birthday, happy one. :)

Rain, rain go away

Come back another day, no come back after Labor Day. In the the northeast, it has rained everyday for the past to weeks. Hello, it's not Vancouver, Mother Nature!!!

Today, the first day of vacation at the cottage will most likely end at home. The boys and I will trek to the cottage and see if it's safe. The word on the cabin circuit is that some small bridges washed from this rain that has plagued us . I am not worried it affecting my cottage but we'll see.
Reminiscent of last year, the rain hampers summer plans and forces us to stay in our homes. Unlike Vancouver where the residents acclimatize to wet weather and go on with their lives, Northeasterners whine and complain and stay in doors. We deserve better after making it through the long winters.

As my dad would say the only thing this much rain is good for are the farmers and their fields. Enjoy.

Happy Father's Day

It my second father's day without mine. Today, I will remember him as this bigger than life figure in my life like only a daughter can.

My dad was not the best dad growing up. My parents' marriage was tumultuous at best with an undying love for one another mixed in there. Much like oil and vinegar. Strange but true my parents dated for years after the divorce, living seperately and happily for a while. My dad began making grand gestures most of the time involving his children but my mother didn't fall for them. They cut each other loose for good when I was about 18 and heading to college.

My dad took it bad and I didn't see him regularly for a couple of years. Then my mom died suddenly and my dad was now a single father of a large broad of children. He stood up to the plate humbly and greatly.

He became an attentive dad in our lives regularly and I loved and cherished every moment. He was there for the birth of my son, for most birthday parties and holiday dinners. He was a great dad. The other day I caught myself looking up his long winding road for his pickup. A tell tale sign he's home but instead their was a foreign vehicle in his parking spot. In that moment, I missed him dearly. Just a quick visit on my lunch hour, catch up as we sat in front of his blaring television of some hunting or fishing show. My dad was a man's man. An outdoorsman who spent many hours in the bush or at his cabin until the day he died. Sometimes, he had papers for me to read over for him other times he would complain about his sons. Sometimes, he would recount stories from his youth. All times I would sit there like a perfect daughter and listen.

But life goes on: we are born and we die. It's fact. What's even truer is today is a day to celebrate your dad whether he is here in flesh or spirit. Enjoy and have a wonderful day.

Friends

Dinner with my BFF and her family last night was a blast. Now that our children are older, they actually play with one another. So there we sat, two girls who met in college and remained good friends for over 20 years, smiled and admired our brood.

We came from opposite worlds: a rez kid and a worldly girl. Our differences are as huge as our similarities. Some years later: we celebrate Orthodox Easter through our husbands, live ten minutes apart, not planned, our children are similar in ages and we married within a year of each other. Our differences are what brought us together, she came from stable family, while my parents were divorced. She lived all over the world by time she was 18, I lived in one place all my life. She was a straight shooter while I continually tested the limits in much of everything. She has only a brother, I have five sisters.

There were years we didn't see each other and years we were in constant touch. Today, we both plan events at our respective jobs, although on much different scales. We both have a mother-in-law and no father-in-law. While I am quick on the trigger, she is more forbearing. I complain, she listens. She hates talking on the phone, I just started hating talking on the phone. We share our everyday mothering experiences, talk about our husbands, laugh and sometimes cry.

She is simply a great friend.

Happy Easter - "Christos Anesti!"

When I was young Easter marked the one event of the year I could count on when my mother adorned her daughters with new clothes for church. One year, I got a new tan knee length coat, another year a new dress and the next a new hat. Skipping ropes, marbles and chocolate were added bonus too. At that young age, I had no clue Easter would come twice in my home as an adult. Traditional Easter this coming weekend and Orthodox Easter the following.

This Sunday, Easter is with my sister and her family. She's doing most of the cooking and baking, something she loves. Of course, my boys will overdose on chocolate, luckily they can run it off outdoors. Best is spending the day with my sisters and their families.

Next Sunday, Orthodox Easter is at my home and celebrated with my in-laws and some of my family too. In my books, it tops celebrations. It's the most important time in the Orthodox calendar culminating with a huge festive dinner on Sunday.

What's not to love. Happy Easter, "Christos Anesti!"