This week marked the seventeenth birthday of our beautiful daughter Emily. I could swear that she just took her first steps a week ago yesterday...but I guess I'd be wrong. I try to put a humorous touch on all that I blog but today I am feeling very emotional.
Children are truly a blessing. Sadly, the stresses of everyday life sometime overshadow the truly important moments. I love my three girls...and on Emily's seventeenth birthday, I think it is a good time to offer a few apologies.
Dear Emily,
When you were just a baby, I was very upset that I never got more than four hours of sleep at a time. I should have been grateful that you had a healthy appetite and healthy lungs...too many parents wait for the day that an unhealthy baby can be taken home to eat on its own...and they long to hear a cry that says "I'm hungry"...instead of a whimper that says "I'm sick".
When you were a toddler, I yelled at you for writing over yourself with permanent marker. I should have been watching you with great care instead of doing housework. I should have taken the time to colour with you and forget about the chores of the day. I should have been squishing playdoh through my fingers and making macaroni picture frames instead of macaroni casserole.
From the age of four to twelve, I am sorry I didn't pay attention to you more. Being so busy with Rachel and then Colleen, the years slipped by. I know you played soccer, took swimming lessons, ran cross-country, took dance classes, tried gymnastics, had numerous sleepovers and got straight A's in school. All the sudden you were at your grade six graduation ceremony and I realized you were growing up.
When you were twelve, we moved you away from all your friends and you had to start junior high school without knowing a single person. I cried when I watched you stand by yourself in a crowd of kids already huddled together in little groups. If I haven't told you before, you amazed me with your confidence. I may have been critical of your choice in friends, but I should have been happy that you weren't sitting alone in your room without anyone to share your secrets with.
When you were fourteen, I am sorry I wasn't more available to you. Your Grampy was sick and I forgot about your needs. The things you did were cries for attention. I should have hugged you more and punished you less. Losing someone you love is difficult. I am lucky I didn't lose you.
When you were sixteen, I wish I had lent you my ear more. Your heart was breaking over a boy. I should have hated him, too. I hate him now, if that helps. And I love you more.
Now you are seventeen. The last few weeks have had lots of ups and downs. I have not handled my emotions very well. So this is my apology. You are important. You make me proud in so many ways. I believe in you and know you will make a difference in this world. You are a loving sister and a trusted friend to so many.
Think of the one thing you love the most and then multiply it by a million. That is almost half as much as I love you and your sisters. I hope you will know that kind of love in your future.
Be happy. Be yourself. Be patient. Be kind. Be willing to take chances. And always know you are loved.
Happy birthday, Emily.
Saturday, 25 February 2012
Saturday, 18 February 2012
The Value of Family Dinner
I think that every parent hopes that they can do a better job bringing up their children than the misguided fools that preceded them. I was quite certain that my parenting skills would be admirable. I read the books. I studied Sociology in high school. I watched Oprah AND Dr. Phil. There was nothing that I was not prepared to deal with. Then we actually had kids. And it really opened my eyes. The problem with kids is that they are people, too. Sure, they are smaller than us (for the first 14 years or so) but they actually have brains and opinions and feelings. Our goal is to turn the little darlings into valued members of society...and that can be a challenge.
In our home, we believe there is value in having dinner together. This provides a wonderful forum where five different people can share the details of the day in twenty minutes or less. We try to encourage conversation. Brad and I ask lots of questions and hope the girls will participate. Unfortunately this is not the way dinner goes down on Lindenwood Terrace.
Colleen is always willing to talk although she really doesn't have a lot of life-changing information to contribute. She is unable to sit still. She has fallen out of her chair on occasion. She spills a lot of food. She is nine...I don't really expect more than this. But I do hope she will learn the value of good manners some day. Right now, she still interrupts most of our conversations. However, being the youngest, I know she is trying her best to be heard. I have been told by her friends' parents that she is a doll when she visits. She says 'Please' and 'Thank-you' and cleans up after herself. I am a little upset that I get Pigpen and they get mini Miss Manners ... but at least I know she is learning there is value in politeness.
Rachel does not talk during dinner. She eats quietly and avoids eye contact. She restrains herself from kicking Colleen which I appreciate. She is vegetarian. This makes my life a little more stressful. Every meal that I cook needs to be accommodating to her nutritional needs. I don't mind. I just wish I knew why she has altered her eating habits. Her friends are not vegetarian and she is not an animal rights activist. It is a mystery to me. But Rachel is a bit mysterious and I like that. She never complains about the food that is put in front of her. Although she may not say anything, I always feel Rachel knows the value in gratitude. She rarely looses anything and takes great care with all that we give her. Gratitude is important in an over-indulged world.
Emily is the child who contributes the most to dinner conversation. She is almost an adult. She talks about school, work, friends, and running. She shares the ins and outs of the day with us...although I think she edits most everything to convince us she's the perfect angel that was sent from heaven to us on a cloud. And she can convince us to believe a lot of crazy things...some of the time. But we aren't easily fooled. We were sixteen not that long ago. I have often caught Emily in a lie. She puts up a good front...but eventually the truth will come out. Honesty is a value that I hope will prevail someday. I will keep my fingers crossed.
As parents, the family meal is a lesson in patience. We patiently wait for children to smile at us and respect each others feelings. We try to get through the meal without telling Colleen to be quiet. We listen to Emily say the word 'like' too many times. ("And then we like went to the mall and like we saw this guy who like totally followed us around and like....") We wait for Rachel to look up ... and not give Colleen a look of disdain. We try our best to make it work. Sometimes it takes two beer for Brad and a glass and a half of wine for me, but we get through the meal.
Politeness. Gratitude. Honesty. Patience. Four little words that mean a lot.
In our home, we believe there is value in having dinner together. This provides a wonderful forum where five different people can share the details of the day in twenty minutes or less. We try to encourage conversation. Brad and I ask lots of questions and hope the girls will participate. Unfortunately this is not the way dinner goes down on Lindenwood Terrace.
Colleen is always willing to talk although she really doesn't have a lot of life-changing information to contribute. She is unable to sit still. She has fallen out of her chair on occasion. She spills a lot of food. She is nine...I don't really expect more than this. But I do hope she will learn the value of good manners some day. Right now, she still interrupts most of our conversations. However, being the youngest, I know she is trying her best to be heard. I have been told by her friends' parents that she is a doll when she visits. She says 'Please' and 'Thank-you' and cleans up after herself. I am a little upset that I get Pigpen and they get mini Miss Manners ... but at least I know she is learning there is value in politeness.
Rachel does not talk during dinner. She eats quietly and avoids eye contact. She restrains herself from kicking Colleen which I appreciate. She is vegetarian. This makes my life a little more stressful. Every meal that I cook needs to be accommodating to her nutritional needs. I don't mind. I just wish I knew why she has altered her eating habits. Her friends are not vegetarian and she is not an animal rights activist. It is a mystery to me. But Rachel is a bit mysterious and I like that. She never complains about the food that is put in front of her. Although she may not say anything, I always feel Rachel knows the value in gratitude. She rarely looses anything and takes great care with all that we give her. Gratitude is important in an over-indulged world.
Emily is the child who contributes the most to dinner conversation. She is almost an adult. She talks about school, work, friends, and running. She shares the ins and outs of the day with us...although I think she edits most everything to convince us she's the perfect angel that was sent from heaven to us on a cloud. And she can convince us to believe a lot of crazy things...some of the time. But we aren't easily fooled. We were sixteen not that long ago. I have often caught Emily in a lie. She puts up a good front...but eventually the truth will come out. Honesty is a value that I hope will prevail someday. I will keep my fingers crossed.
As parents, the family meal is a lesson in patience. We patiently wait for children to smile at us and respect each others feelings. We try to get through the meal without telling Colleen to be quiet. We listen to Emily say the word 'like' too many times. ("And then we like went to the mall and like we saw this guy who like totally followed us around and like....") We wait for Rachel to look up ... and not give Colleen a look of disdain. We try our best to make it work. Sometimes it takes two beer for Brad and a glass and a half of wine for me, but we get through the meal.
Politeness. Gratitude. Honesty. Patience. Four little words that mean a lot.
Thursday, 9 February 2012
The Price of Beauty
I am not crazy about getting my hair done. This may sound strange to other women...but it causes me a lot of anxiety. I always wonder if the bangs will be too short or the layers too shaggy. And coloring is worrisome, too. I had a bad experience in 2005....the year I turned 40. I won't go into detail, but an allergic reaction caused my forehead and eyes to swell to elephant-man proportions. I scared the children in the neighborhood for a good week...but my hair looked spectacular. That was the last time I dyed my hair.
Hair color is important to my daughters. My girls love their hair and are quite obsessed with achieving the right look. My 14 year old daughter (Rachel) prefers the punk look and has opted for jet black hair with purple highlights. She gave me the heads up last night at suppertime that she wants to dye it red...not Julianne Moore red...more of the Raggedy-Ann variety. Her current look has already set me back $300 since September. That has made a big dent in my wine and chocolate budget.
Emily is a bit more conservative. She had her first set of highlights when she was 14...just a few blonde strands to lighten it for the summer. Next, she had reddish-plum highlights and then...after excessive flat-ironing and blow-drying..she was told (at the ripe age of 15) to stop hurting her hair. It wasn't growing. I have always had thick hair so this was shocking to me. She dyed it back to her natural color and waited.
This year she started Grade 11. She wanted to experience life as a blonde...so she had a million highlights put in to give her a subtle, overall effect. I picked her up after the 3.5 hour appointment and was shocked...because she looked pretty much the same. That cost me $150...and another $50 in products because her hair was pretty damaged.
As mentioned in my previous blog, Emily has spunk. She told the hair dresser that she was not happy...the girl said it was a miscommunication. She would redo it if we came back next week. We did. I dropped Emily off and returned 3 hours later. This time she was sporting a blond-red shade...and it was awful. It resembled the shade of a golden retriever...but not that nice. Apparently the hair-dresser ran out of time that evening so we would have to come back to tone it a bit. Was she kidding me? I am not a personal taxi service to the salon for my teenage daughters. There are other things I could be doing with my time...like popping open a bottle of red and unwrapping a Hershey.
Emily cried for the next few days... I cried on the inside. We spoke with the manager and they agreed to have another hairdresser fix the mistakes at no cost. The new hairdresser was a gem. She listened to what Emily was saying and I felt like I was leaving her in capable hands for the next two hours.
Upon my return, Emily was waiting anxiously at the front for me...she was grinning ear to ear. She had even used her own money to buy some special Argon Oil to make her hair feel silky. Should I mention how she looked? Her hair was brown again. Yup. Three weeks, $230, and many tears later, she was back to her natural shade. And she loved it. But all is not lost..other than my money, that is. Since this experience, she has learned to be more precise about what she wants. She is currently a dark red-brown and I love it...and so does she.
So it's probably good that I don't like getting my hair done. I've probably spent $125 on my own hair in the last year. And I think I look presentable. I use dollar store shampoos....sometimes I splurge on the ones at the drugstore...if they have a good sale on. But life is a balancing act...I budget what I spend on myself so the kids can have the little luxuries in life. When they smile, I smile.
Hair color is important to my daughters. My girls love their hair and are quite obsessed with achieving the right look. My 14 year old daughter (Rachel) prefers the punk look and has opted for jet black hair with purple highlights. She gave me the heads up last night at suppertime that she wants to dye it red...not Julianne Moore red...more of the Raggedy-Ann variety. Her current look has already set me back $300 since September. That has made a big dent in my wine and chocolate budget.
Emily is a bit more conservative. She had her first set of highlights when she was 14...just a few blonde strands to lighten it for the summer. Next, she had reddish-plum highlights and then...after excessive flat-ironing and blow-drying..she was told (at the ripe age of 15) to stop hurting her hair. It wasn't growing. I have always had thick hair so this was shocking to me. She dyed it back to her natural color and waited.
This year she started Grade 11. She wanted to experience life as a blonde...so she had a million highlights put in to give her a subtle, overall effect. I picked her up after the 3.5 hour appointment and was shocked...because she looked pretty much the same. That cost me $150...and another $50 in products because her hair was pretty damaged.
As mentioned in my previous blog, Emily has spunk. She told the hair dresser that she was not happy...the girl said it was a miscommunication. She would redo it if we came back next week. We did. I dropped Emily off and returned 3 hours later. This time she was sporting a blond-red shade...and it was awful. It resembled the shade of a golden retriever...but not that nice. Apparently the hair-dresser ran out of time that evening so we would have to come back to tone it a bit. Was she kidding me? I am not a personal taxi service to the salon for my teenage daughters. There are other things I could be doing with my time...like popping open a bottle of red and unwrapping a Hershey.
Emily cried for the next few days... I cried on the inside. We spoke with the manager and they agreed to have another hairdresser fix the mistakes at no cost. The new hairdresser was a gem. She listened to what Emily was saying and I felt like I was leaving her in capable hands for the next two hours.
Upon my return, Emily was waiting anxiously at the front for me...she was grinning ear to ear. She had even used her own money to buy some special Argon Oil to make her hair feel silky. Should I mention how she looked? Her hair was brown again. Yup. Three weeks, $230, and many tears later, she was back to her natural shade. And she loved it. But all is not lost..other than my money, that is. Since this experience, she has learned to be more precise about what she wants. She is currently a dark red-brown and I love it...and so does she.
So it's probably good that I don't like getting my hair done. I've probably spent $125 on my own hair in the last year. And I think I look presentable. I use dollar store shampoos....sometimes I splurge on the ones at the drugstore...if they have a good sale on. But life is a balancing act...I budget what I spend on myself so the kids can have the little luxuries in life. When they smile, I smile.
Sunday, 5 February 2012
There are a lot of blogs out there in cyberspace. Frankly, I never
really understood people's need to share their vast knowledge about
things....wine, food, sex, money. (I don't know why those things popped
into my head first.) For instance, google "wine blogs" and you will find
24,700,000 in .14 seconds! That many blogs about wine? Really????? Safe
to say that I probably have nothing else to enlighten you with respect
to wine. And don't get me started on food, sex, and money...
I am not a writer so why try my hand at blogging? Well...why not? Bloggers are cool...I think. I mean, who writes on paper anymore? Why try to get a magazine interested in your musings about everyday life when you can have instant fame through the power of the internet? That would require way too much work...and we live in the age of instant gratification. Think...write....post!
So now I must write about what I know. That poses many limitations on this blogging adventure. I will have to make the mundane seem interesting enough to make you want to return. Who would want to read about a forty-something's account of her everday life with her family? I know...this could be boring.
Well, let's start with my job. Four days a week, I am a dental receptionist. It's a pretty good gig....I like my co-workers. Most of the women I work with are moms. They understand me...and I think every mom who has had their teenager (and tween) roll their eyes at them appreciates having some allies. For 36 hours a week, I pretend that I am a competent dental professional. I dress in nice clothes and drink coffee and eat salads with other grownups. We talk about healthy meals, spa treatments, shoes, exercise (or lack thereof), and great movies. Sometimes, we even talk about current events...until someone brings up shopping. It's my happy place...the land of adult conversation.
At my desk, I deal with insurance companies so patients don't have to. I try my best to make the dental experience a pleasant one. Everyone hates coming to the dentist...they all have a story about a childhood experience from the pages of "Dentists from Hell" (not a real book). I know this because patients are always willing to share this piece of information with our staff. They tell me when I answer the phone, when they check in for their appointment, when they sit in the chair and when they pay the bill. (And just so you know, I've heard this one too many times ---"Now for the painful part...." when they reach for their wallet.) But I listen to them all...I don't mind. The dentist has the tough job. I mean, who would want to be the dentist? It takes a brave person to put their hands in the mouth that might bite back. Luckily, I work for a guy with a sense of humour. He keeps them laughing without the gas...
I am also a wife and mother...which really are tied for role #1 if we are categorizing by level of importance. My husband (Brad) and I have been married 21+ years. I am still not completely sure what his job is...but it has something to do with computers. He is extremely good at what he does...I know this because we live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where people can afford more than the 1.4 children that Canada census says is the average. Brad is the voice of reason in this relationship. I am the emotional one. Together, we are indestructible when it comes to parenting. We are the proud parents of three girls...Emily (17), Rachel (14) and Colleen (9). We always knew that we wanted kids...I'm just not convinced that we got the right ones. (Ba-
dum-dum.) It is not an easy job...they are a challenge. But we are stronger than they are...as long as we stick together. If one of us bails, the kids will win. And we are both too stubborn to allow that to happen.
I can't give too much away about the kids just yet. Their everday antics will be the main source of my musings and hopefully your entertainment. And I can't forget the dog. She definitely will contribute to the blogging experience. Her name is Maggie and she is motivated by food and belly rubs. (You could say the same about a lot of people.)
Well...maybe one story.
Today was another typical day in my life. Our oldest daughter is in Grade 11 and today was day 2 of second semester. Yesterday, she was not happy about her C block options. She started out in "Film and Editing". She stayed in class for 10 minutes and decided in was full of 'pot-heads". She went to her guidance counselor and was sent to "Intro Spanish". She doesn't plan to travel to Spain so she went to another counselor and was given the option to take "Phys. Ed. Leadership" (is that a course?). She's an active kid...runs half-marathons...so she was okay with this and came home happy.
She returned to school today and was told she could not take "Phys. Ed. Leadership" because she was not in Grade 12. The only option left was "Food Sciences" - aka -cooking. (To appreciate how funny this is, you should know that when Emily wanted a fresh baked cookie in a hurry, she took Pillsbury cookie dough and put it in the microwave for 2 minutes. DON'T try this.) Dissatisfied with this course, she went to the principal. I have to admire her...at 5'2", that kid has moxie...she goes straight to the top.
Late this afternoon, I got a phone call from the principal. She admires the kid's spunk, too. She wants to let me know Emily will be taking Grade 12 Academic Math during C-block. Great! Why was this course not an option from the beginning??? I mean, my kid's smart...she wants to go to one of the most expensive universities in Canada. She has big plans to make a name for herself in forensic sciences...she's the next "Dexter" - minus the serial killer part.
So what's the catch? The principal was impressed with her ambition (or worn down by her persistence) so she decided to allow Emily to teach herself Grade 12 Academic Math. Huh? That's an option? She can do that? I am not crazy about this. The principal assures me that other students have done this to get the credits they want. And if she needs help, we can hire a tutor because the math teachers will only provide help to the students that were lucky enough to get a spot in an actual classroom. WHAT????? I thought education was free around here until they left high school. My tax dollars don't ensure my daughter gets a spot in Math? I am not happy. Her dad is not happy.
But Emily is happy. And in the end, if my kids are happy, so am I.
I am not a writer so why try my hand at blogging? Well...why not? Bloggers are cool...I think. I mean, who writes on paper anymore? Why try to get a magazine interested in your musings about everyday life when you can have instant fame through the power of the internet? That would require way too much work...and we live in the age of instant gratification. Think...write....post!
So now I must write about what I know. That poses many limitations on this blogging adventure. I will have to make the mundane seem interesting enough to make you want to return. Who would want to read about a forty-something's account of her everday life with her family? I know...this could be boring.
Well, let's start with my job. Four days a week, I am a dental receptionist. It's a pretty good gig....I like my co-workers. Most of the women I work with are moms. They understand me...and I think every mom who has had their teenager (and tween) roll their eyes at them appreciates having some allies. For 36 hours a week, I pretend that I am a competent dental professional. I dress in nice clothes and drink coffee and eat salads with other grownups. We talk about healthy meals, spa treatments, shoes, exercise (or lack thereof), and great movies. Sometimes, we even talk about current events...until someone brings up shopping. It's my happy place...the land of adult conversation.
At my desk, I deal with insurance companies so patients don't have to. I try my best to make the dental experience a pleasant one. Everyone hates coming to the dentist...they all have a story about a childhood experience from the pages of "Dentists from Hell" (not a real book). I know this because patients are always willing to share this piece of information with our staff. They tell me when I answer the phone, when they check in for their appointment, when they sit in the chair and when they pay the bill. (And just so you know, I've heard this one too many times ---"Now for the painful part...." when they reach for their wallet.) But I listen to them all...I don't mind. The dentist has the tough job. I mean, who would want to be the dentist? It takes a brave person to put their hands in the mouth that might bite back. Luckily, I work for a guy with a sense of humour. He keeps them laughing without the gas...
I am also a wife and mother...which really are tied for role #1 if we are categorizing by level of importance. My husband (Brad) and I have been married 21+ years. I am still not completely sure what his job is...but it has something to do with computers. He is extremely good at what he does...I know this because we live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where people can afford more than the 1.4 children that Canada census says is the average. Brad is the voice of reason in this relationship. I am the emotional one. Together, we are indestructible when it comes to parenting. We are the proud parents of three girls...Emily (17), Rachel (14) and Colleen (9). We always knew that we wanted kids...I'm just not convinced that we got the right ones. (Ba-
dum-dum.) It is not an easy job...they are a challenge. But we are stronger than they are...as long as we stick together. If one of us bails, the kids will win. And we are both too stubborn to allow that to happen.
I can't give too much away about the kids just yet. Their everday antics will be the main source of my musings and hopefully your entertainment. And I can't forget the dog. She definitely will contribute to the blogging experience. Her name is Maggie and she is motivated by food and belly rubs. (You could say the same about a lot of people.)
Well...maybe one story.
Today was another typical day in my life. Our oldest daughter is in Grade 11 and today was day 2 of second semester. Yesterday, she was not happy about her C block options. She started out in "Film and Editing". She stayed in class for 10 minutes and decided in was full of 'pot-heads". She went to her guidance counselor and was sent to "Intro Spanish". She doesn't plan to travel to Spain so she went to another counselor and was given the option to take "Phys. Ed. Leadership" (is that a course?). She's an active kid...runs half-marathons...so she was okay with this and came home happy.
She returned to school today and was told she could not take "Phys. Ed. Leadership" because she was not in Grade 12. The only option left was "Food Sciences" - aka -cooking. (To appreciate how funny this is, you should know that when Emily wanted a fresh baked cookie in a hurry, she took Pillsbury cookie dough and put it in the microwave for 2 minutes. DON'T try this.) Dissatisfied with this course, she went to the principal. I have to admire her...at 5'2", that kid has moxie...she goes straight to the top.
Late this afternoon, I got a phone call from the principal. She admires the kid's spunk, too. She wants to let me know Emily will be taking Grade 12 Academic Math during C-block. Great! Why was this course not an option from the beginning??? I mean, my kid's smart...she wants to go to one of the most expensive universities in Canada. She has big plans to make a name for herself in forensic sciences...she's the next "Dexter" - minus the serial killer part.
So what's the catch? The principal was impressed with her ambition (or worn down by her persistence) so she decided to allow Emily to teach herself Grade 12 Academic Math. Huh? That's an option? She can do that? I am not crazy about this. The principal assures me that other students have done this to get the credits they want. And if she needs help, we can hire a tutor because the math teachers will only provide help to the students that were lucky enough to get a spot in an actual classroom. WHAT????? I thought education was free around here until they left high school. My tax dollars don't ensure my daughter gets a spot in Math? I am not happy. Her dad is not happy.
But Emily is happy. And in the end, if my kids are happy, so am I.
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A Promise is a Promise
THIS PAST WEEKEND, I spent a glorious few days at an oceanfront Airbnb with my sister and a friend to celebrate the end of my chemotherapy...
