Salt of the Earth

You know what they say about people from the prairies? It's true. You really couldn't find more down-to-earth, hard working, humble and welcoming people than those whose back yards are fields of wheat and whose winters are spent skating on frozen lakes and rivers. I am proud to be the daughter of my prairie hero - my Dad. A retired RCMP, brother, son, Uncle, husband, Granddad and Dad, he is Prairie through-and-through.

I was lucky enough, in October of 2009, to be able to take a couple of days to join my Dad in Saskatchewan for my cousins wedding. Not only was it a beautiful wedding but in the 36 hours I was there, I packed in time with my grandma, visits with cousins, uncles and aunts, a trip to the old farm (that my Grandma and Grandpa had owned and run and I had known as a child) and many good chats with my Dad as we drove the Trans Canada to and from different events.

People who haven't spent time in the prairies often have some kind of idea that they aren't missing anything - they couldn't be more wrong. There is something so incredibly powerful and beautiful about the prairies. Whenever I am there, I yearn for more time - time to explore the little towns that haven't changed in 150 years and "pop" up every 20 miles along the historically rich CPR, time to walk through the fields of my Uncle and Aunts farm, time to explore the abandoned homesteads, time to watch all the wildlife that make the prairies their home.

One day, I promise to take my children to the prairies so that they too can be charmed by the people, the countryside, the smells and the sky that goes on forever. As you can see, I am proud to be a "little bit prairie".

sweetness is a three-year-old ballerina

On Thursday of last week, Bridget enjoyed her first ballet class in her very own, new, ballet outfit and new ballet slippers. Not slippers soft and worn from her big sisters' use and not a slightly pilled ballet outfit, stretched a bit in the bottom because of Sophie's constant wear. Brand new everything.

I have been trying to be very sensitive to the role of "the second child" - especially when the children are of the same sex. It must be very hard to always walk in the shadow of a larger and louder older sibling. Bridget, with the perfect combination of sweet and strong, wants nothing more than to tell stories like sister, dress like sister, read like sister, have the same friends as sister - BE like sister. My heart catches a little bit when I watch the rapture on her face when she is watching Sophie accomplish something or tell a story that everyone finds funny. She just adores her sister.

When I told Bridget, after Christmas, that she might like to think about doing a class if some kind - she looked at me and said "just like Sophie taking ballet and gymnastics and soccer?". "Yes, you can choose anything you like and we will take you and be proud of you and take pictures of you and come to your recitals and final matches and closing presentations". All she did was flash me one of her incredible smiles and say "thank you, Mamma. I like you a lot."

Ballet was the choice. This was said with complete certainty and without hesitation. Two days before her first class, I made a special trip to two locations and bought a little pink ballet outfit and perfect little pink ballet slippers. When I picked Bridgy up from pre-school, I told her that there was something special in the car for her. She scrambled into the car and held out her little hands and closed her eyes. I put the package in her hands and told her to open it. Just as though she knew it was a moment that I needed to savour, she opened the paper wrapped around her new outfit very carefully and slowly (especially for a three year old) and then announced "thank you Mama, it is what I always wanted - but why isn't it from Sophie?"

I was a bit confused thinking that she meant "why didn't Sophie give this gift to me?" not realizing that what she actually meant, the sweet second child, was "it didn't belong to Sophie before me".

I promise, to both my first and my second - I will continue to try to make each of your lives uniquely your own and to nurture the love of such wonderful sisters.

New Year's Revolutions

This is what Bridget thought I said - funny

BRIDGET
- Stay here with you, Mama

DADDY
-Exercise More
-Play soccer this year

SOPHIE
Make new friends
Go to the beach and swim
Stay home with Mama
Finish Math Challenge
Family trip to Vancouver Island
Make new food - cook new things
Have a nice birthday for Bridget and Me
Make Bridget 100 birthday cards
Read more chapter books


MUMMY
Teach Sophie to read really well
Read more books to the girls
Have more dinner parties
Plant a really amazing garden
Exercise more
Run the Sun Run
Find my new "calling"

Those bad things in your head

Tonight at dinner, while each of us talked in our typical overlapping-everyone-talking-at-once style, I mentioned that I had not seen the notice that the school said they sent home about road safety around Sophie's School. Sophie quickly responded (at a pitch that I am convinced our good friends in West Van can hear) that the school probably didn't send the note home with the younger kids and only with the older ones who had "those bad things starting in their heads". Huh??? There was a pause in the action while everyone tried to figure out what Soph had just said. "Soph, what do you mean the older kids with the bad things in their heads? "you know Mama, the bad things that teenagers get in their heads - the things you told me about"....hummm...stumped on this one and clearly irritating Sophie by not remembering what I had told her.

"Maaa-maaa, the things that make teenagers crazy and make them do crazy things and not like their mummies and daddies"...OH, I remember now. "Soph, are you talking about hormones?". "Yes, that is what it is. You told me about those bad things that teenagers get in their heads that make them act crazy". "I did, you're right. But what does that have to do with you not getting a certain note from school about road safety?"

Logically - "Well, the school probably only gives the note to the older kids who are just starting to get their hormones and just starting to do bad and crazy things. You know, they would be the kids who need to know about road safety because they probably can't think about that with all the hormones taking up all the room in their heads. The little kids like me know all about road safety so we don't need the note. That's why I didn't get it I guess." Right. Of course. Its all about the hormones.

32 and a half

That is how many more work days I have left in my 9 month contract - but I'm not really counting.

The end is in sight with my current position and though I would be the first to admit that it is not the right fit for me and it has been a rather challenging 6 months so far, I do know that I have learned plenty. All the better to take to my next "gig" - whatever that may be (I am hoping that with hands placed in front of me, in the shape of a bowl, "direction" will promptly be poured into them).

Here is some of what I have learned:

Commuting bites.
Skytrain travel smells.
Finding a new "business outfit" five days a week is hard.
Hand sanitizer is my best friend.
An effective and smart HR team is crucial and very beneficial.
People surprise me on a daily basis.
I am not 27 anymore.
Coffee after 12 noon makes me wiggy.
In-Design rules.
Databases are evil.
Gastown has great restuarants and stores.
Sephora is the best way to spend lunch when you take it.
Creativity and design are an essential part of my future career direction

ahh...not bad for the "contract girl"

HOME

Today, Thanksgiving Day, was exhausting. It is drawing to an end for me as I know that I can't keep my eyes propped open much longer than it is going to take to write this post. It was a good day but a tiring one. The girls were at each other most of the day - arguing, fighting, yelling, crying - the works. At this point you might be asking " Where is she going with this? (psstt...she must be really out of practice writing these posts! She hasn't done it in a while!). Well the direction I am going and the intention I have for this post is to talk about one of the things that I am and will always be very thankful for. I am thankful for HOME. There really isn't a word to me that is more enveloping. More comforting.

I love that people will use "home" to describe the physical building in which they live - or the town they grew up in - or, even the country that they came from. Home means everything. It is how many of us qualify ourselves. Define ourselves. Account for our style, our accent, our beliefs.

Last weekend, I made a last minute trip to my Dad's "home". By this, I mean the town in which he grew up. The town where my grandma, cousins, aunts and uncles still live. Their home.

I loved the threads, though long and almost invisible, that still connect my Dad to his home. The beautiful prairie fields of wheat. The groves of trees all red and gold. The prairie sky that is a blue like nowhere else. Being with my Dad, sharing his memories of home made me feel that warmth of knowing that I am fortunate enough to also have a home.

Our home, filled with chaos and noise and laundry and dishes and yelling and laughing and goofiness couldn't be anything more. It is a sanctuary - the place that protects and keeps the people I love the most safe and warm and contained. Tonight, when I told the girls that they were going to have a special picnic dinner for Thanksgiving with a special movie, they were overjoyed (this special treat is purely selfish as it allows me to sit and eat a meal with my family in peace!) - however, Sophie said to me "Mama, are we going to hold hands before dinner and pray for Thanksgiving? Because I don't want to miss that part". I, of course, said that I thought that this was a great idea and why didn't she and her sister have a prayer with the grown-ups and then head downstairs to watch their special show. This was agreeable. So, as we all sat down to a feast of food and wine, we all held hands and offered up what each of us was thankful for. As we went around the circle, and each person shared their thanks, what ran through my head over and over again was "I am so thankful to be home, surrounded by my family". Home. We should all be so fortunate.

smells funny

Today - Sophie's first day of "big girl school" (grade 1) - went off without a hitch. Thank you, thank you, thank you...

After the challenges we faced last year with Kindergarten, we were, admittedly, a little worried about how this day would unfold. Sophie appeared to feel quite comfortable with the idea of a new school, new friends and new teachers. I had been asking her for about 5 or 6 days if she was worried about anything and her answer was continually "no, mamma, I feel fine about school". Last night, the final night before the big day, as I was lying beside her, I asked her again "Soph, how are you feeling about tomorrow?".

Her answer was decidedly different this time. Her response was (and I quote) "I'm worried. I'm worried about the smell".

I had to think about this and I paused before responding. The smell? The smell of what? of whom? I could not imagine what she could be thinking about in her incredibly interesting brain. "Soph, what smell are you talking about?" - "The one you you said there was by the office.".

Ahh...of course. The smell by the office. Knowing Sophie and knowing that she does not miss ANYTHING, I tried to remember talking about her new school to someone and rather quickly remembered talking with her grandma about my visit to the school to register Sophie. I had been describing the smell as I entered the school and stood in the lobby. I am sure that Sophie heard me talking about "the smell" and that is what she remembered. What she didn't remember was that I went on talk about how the smell of the school reminded me of all the good things about school. It is that old school smell of old wooden floors, cleaners, chalk, books and children.

I finally responded to Sophie and said "Soph, are you thinking about what mummy was saying to grandma?" "Yes" she replied. "well, lovey, what I was telling grandma is that the smell is a wonderful, good smell and not a bad one". "Oh, really? that's good mamma because I wouldn't want to go there if there was a bad smell".

This is from the same child that didn't want to go to Sunday school when the room at the church was newly painted because she didn't like the new paint colour. It made her feel sick.

Ahhh....I love you Soph and I know you are going to shine in your new school with all of energy!