On working and mothering and finding the balance.

"I don't like when you go to work, mama", she whispered quietly, snuggling next to me at bedtime.

"I know," I replied, as I pulled her closer.

Ten hours earlier the scene unfolding in our home was far less peaceful but equally raw.

In a rare twist, today I found myself scheduled to work a quick Montreal turn around.

The plan, if executed with precision and timing, would have me drop my children off an hour early at their new school, at 7:30, allowing me to double back and find myself at Pearson International Airport for a 9:00am check in. I would be returning for pick up that evening at 17:15.

Piece of cake, right?

That should have been the case. For many children and families, this is THE NORM. Day in and day out. Monday to Friday, 9-5.
For us, it just isn't. It never has been (I thank my lucky stars for this).
It never will be (I have made life choices to ensure this)
Our lives are built and balanced on this....they were as an "in tact" family and remain so as a "broken one".

In a perverse way and for all of its inconsistencies, my schedule has provided a foundation of presence, flexibility, and dependability, which, when compromised, reeks havoc on "our normal".

To say that this morning was chaotic would be a gross understatement.
To say that it was comical (in hindsight) is undeniable.

All my children had to do, was sleepily slide into their uniforms and gingerly walk through the front doors at 07:00, into our family vehicle.
There they could eat their breakfast, put on their ties, snuggle under a blanket and perhaps choose a playlist for their twenty minute ride to school. Sounds good, doesn't it?

Of course it does, if you live in the land of  delusional perfection.

Best way to describe and process how it played out?
Well for starters, I am sitting here at 3 am contemplating it, so that should be a hint.

Lets begin with the fact that five minutes before "scheduled departure time", my youngest was face down on the wood floor in her pajamas, refusing to get dressed.
For those who do not know,  my youngest is NOT a small toddler who can be dressed and soldier carried out of the front door. Those days have long since passed.

She is almost as tall as I am, twice as feisty and highly motivated *
( *see the first sentence of this post).

I know I was patient, except for exclaiming moments before our departure time, that I was going to lose it if we didn't meet "on time performance".

I am not really sure what others would do in my shoes and I am not really sure that I care.

All I know, is that my office... is a moving mode of transportation.

There is NO showing up "a few minutes late".

There is no human element, unless I am facing catastrophic circumstances.

Simply put, I am a number and unless I am in a ditch somewhere (God forbid) I am expected to be there.
Come hell or high water.
I also know, that if ever I were to be in a ditch, I would be required to present appropriate ditch occupying documentation, along with my first born and passwords to all of my bank accounts (metaphorically speaking).

After relenting and getting dressed, my youngest (and sassiest) then stalled for a good five minutes at the front door, while attempting to style her hair.
It was at this point, that I guided that little body out of the front door, along with the shoes she was refusing to put on. I then promptly shut that door and locked it.

SHUT.THE FRONT DOOR. literally and for real.

The madness didn't stop there.

She stomped to the car in her sock feet , lay down in the back seat with her head hanging out of the door (effectively preventing me from closing it), and continued to do her hair.
This is when I raised my voice and in no uncertain terms stated how little I cared who heard me.
She sat up, and proceeded to throw her knee socks out of the window. She made two attempts to leave the car and go back into the house.

I collected her discarded socks off of my front lawn (or so I thought, and yes, I did this in my three inch patent heels with red lipstick glowing in the dark).
I then jumped into the driver's seat and finally, "pushed back".

Next was an objection to seatbelts. A neighbour patiently waited behind me as I pulled over, jumped out, reached across the back seat and locked her in. Safety, after all, is number one.

Finally my youngest relented, though sockless, tieless, and shoeless, she began to drink her smoothy and eat her toast that had been (carefully and lovingly) prepared for her in advance.
I did briefly cry, while observing the parking lot on the highway in the opposite direction that I was meant to face after dropping my girls off.
My oldest may or may not have shed a tear in solidarity. We then settled on some old school Dr Dre to take the edge off and made our way to school. (California dreaming, baby)

What can I say?
There is and was nothing perfect about this scenario, but I am certain it was authentic.

I know for sure that I am grateful for the twenty minute drive,  because frayed nerves and emotions mostly had a chance to mellow.
Hugs, kisses and goodbyes were genuine, tears were dried, frustration (mostly) had subsided.

Despite my best efforts, my youngest went to school with her tie crooked, one sock on and one sock off (apparently another sock was thrown out of the window which I missed).
We said our "I love you's",  I got to work on time, and all that was well ended well.

I hope this will never be our "new normal",  should it ever be, we now know, that we are resilient enough to make our way through the days, even the super challenging ones, still loving one another, giving grace and forgiveness when we aren't at our best and always talking openly about our struggles.
And no matter what, at day's end, we share the unspoken feelings in our heart and kiss one another goodnight.

This.

There is something about September. New beginnings and transitions, back to school vibes, end of summer vibes. It's my version of New Years and I love it.
Stealing extra days in the sun while the girls are in school, watching the sun set earlier and rise later, making space in our home, for whatever the change of weather brings.
I love the rhythm of the seasons. Noticing the second bloom of lavender in our garden, pulling veggies from our pots and patches, Feeling melancholy about certain flowers as they bloom and simultaneously delight and break my heart, signaling summer's end.
And then - before the last blossom has fallen, the leaves begin to change - their vibrant colours demanding both my attention and admiration.
Another sign of summer's end, is the odd sighting of a monarch butterfly floating about, effortlessly on its epic, annual journey to central Mexico. They say the Monarch migration is one of the most spectacular natural phenomenons in the world.
If ever you doubted the power, mystery and strength of nature, just sit with that for a few moments.

I will never forget five years ago sitting in a traffic jam on the highway near our home, as dozens of Monarch butterfly's floated past us. I opened the sun roof and delighted in the sight, in their beauty and grace, and encouraged my girls to do the same.
Since their youngest of years they have been lovers of nature. To my surprise, Paige erupted into tears. Imagine the sunroof open and what looked like a "flock" of monarchs floated above us. What could be more beautiful?

Paige didn't see it like this at all. Paige was overcome with much heavier things - with the understanding of the significance of their journey...and I can tell you by the tears that flooded our vehicle, she felt this to the depths of her soul.

"why are you crying my love", I asked in disbelief,
"I am crying because they are so beautiful and they have so far to go and not everyone of them will make it...some of them will die before they reach their forest in Mexico....."

So that was when I came to understand the depths of my daughters heart. Wow. What to say to that?
I can't remember now, exactly how I responded. I think I shifted the focus to the nasty short and brutish truth of mother nature. I wrote about it at the time, on our sweet growing up, being mommy blog which I retired a few years ago when life got a little crazy.

Fast forward five years. This time last week, we happened to see one lone Monarch butterfly, floating about, meandering its way on an incomprehensible journey of over 7,000 kms .

Paige noticed it instantly and watched silently. Again we were in our car.
"look at the Monarch", she said.
"yes love, its that time of year," I replied.
"its so strange," she said quietly, "when they complete their journey and arrive at their destination, they die".
So strange.
So true.
And what a difference in a young girls perception over five years. From lamenting the challenges, twists and turns on a journey that prevented the arrival at a known final destination,  instead, there is the realization that the journey itself, is all there is.

So my loves, float along on your paths and undertake your journey. Even if you are one of hundreds of Monarchs with a set destination, your journey will be unique to you and you alone and accepting that is the most beautiful and painful thing of all.
 Endeavour to reach a final destination, and know that it may take you to places you weren't expecting.
There is familiarity and comfort in seasons as they change and every flower will bloom, every leaf will fall and every journey will unfold exactly as its meant to, in its own time.

Make peace with this. Accept and embrace this and the journey becomes all the more sacred.

Life unfiltered

A few nights ago I found myself standing in a darkened hotel room in Copenhagen, Denmark, watching an unexpected fireworks display from the nearby Tivoli Gardens.
Memories of a night with my girls in Niagara falls a few years earlier crept in and I imagined them standing next to me enjoying the sights and sounds.
I reached for my phone and began snapping photos and videos....with every colourful explosion, imagining how wonderful it would be to share it with my girls once I returned home to them.

As I viewed the spectacular show through my phone, another memory surfaced.
It was Emilie's graduation from Junior Kindergarten.
Her Dad was not present, so I took lots of photos and a video of their songs...I remember how cute Miss Emilie looked with her crown upon her head, singing songs and generally tugging at parents heart strings....and then I remember the frowny face she made when she saw me peering through my phone at her.

I am not sure how, but instantly I knew, that little frown was because she thought I wasn't watching her. She thought, I was looking at my phone.

In that moment I made a point to lower my phone and make sure my sweet little kindie girl could see my eyes, and better yet, see that my eyes were on her.

How often do we find ourselves at a concert or a sporting event, watching the screens instead of the performers on stage or athletes in front of us...how often do we find ourselves so intent on capturing a moment, that we actually fail to experience it for ourselves.

In that darkened room oceans away, I shifted my phone a little to the left, and took in the colours and sights unfolding before me. I became more aware of the colours and the interesting ways in which they fell and lit up the sky. The sound was louder too.  I was simply more present than I had been moments before and I better appreciated the experience as a whole. 

Its tempting, in the world we live in , to filter everything, including our own lives.  To stand behind a screen and safely edit and view the events in our day to day, to pick and choose our memories, to revisit later, or to fill in the spaces later on social media.
It has become common, to shift attention from pain, to cling to joy, to edit out awkward moments and to zoom in on the seemingly perfect ones.

Could it be that it feels safer, to view something in a detached manner, as opposed to immersing onself in real time? Its possible, yet this also robs us of the very opportunity to be human and to experience real life, as it is intended, with all of our senses engaged in a present moment.

Only when we are fully engaged can we begin to connect with others, with their feelings and our own. Allowing ourselves to become immersed in any given moment, gives our bodies and minds dominion over our senses and our understanding of what we are experiencing. It is the root of shared humanity and it is sadly lacking in our world today.

Love letter

One of the challenges of being a single parent, is that you must be all things, not only to your children but also to your home. Simply put, there is no job that is exclusive to the "Man of the house" because, well, you're looking at her...

That means, regardless of the amount of time and energy I am blessed with, there are some jobs that simply don't get done. Many of these I am capable of, I simply don't choose them first. Like changing potlights, for example, or drilling things in the walls.
I mean, I can do it, I really can, and I have, its just sometimes, I opt out.

Such was the case with backyard clean up this fall, which was done in a haphazard manner refelcting my general aversion to the task.

As with all choices, there are consequences.... and yesterday evening was the time for me to face the mess I had made by neglecting our yard.

Suffice to say, it did not please the "Queen" of the castle to be struggling with a messy yard and some undesirable tasks, even less so as I had to decline more than one adorable invitation to play, chalk, skip, walk and ride bikes with the ever so sunshiny littlest one in the family.

This did not please me at all. It made me quite grumpy, in fact, which I carefully and calmly explained to my youngest daughter.

And so I worked away, finally finishing the task, all the while apologizing to my girls for the fact that I was not in the best of moods.

I know my girls understand. I know they see me working hard in our home. At least I hope they do.

I also know that they see me trying, sometimes failing, often succeeding, always persevering.
I sense, that as they get older, they see me simply as me, not as super Mommy, and I think that's really important. Its important for them to me struggle and its important for them to see me try. So that when life requires this of them, they will do the same.

Something very special about my youngest daughter, is her ability to pour love from her heart, onto paper, in little letters and drawings that always manage to find me when I am most in need.

Last night was no exception, just before bath, little miss thoughtful locked my bedroom door, asked for privacy and went to work writing one of her trademark letters.

Mama I love you.

Thank you.

Dear : Mama

i'm writing this letter to tell you how you make me feel........

Your smile makes me want to fall down 

your laugh sounds like music

i'm sorry when you are stressed

your hair looks pretty however it is 

even in the morning 

you don't need to be dressed up to be pretty

you don't even need a titch

even the smallest dot of makeup.

you're gorgeous just the way you are.

I love spending time with you more than anything

(you are probably tearing up by now!!:)

God picked the perfect person to be my Mama. 

I love the way you do everything. 

I love doing yoga with you.

You know this could go on forever so I'll end this soon.

The best part of this letter is, 

I Love You.

By:Emilie

ps. J'aime les petits choses tu fais pour moi

xoxo

She who is brave is free.

This reminds me of you Mama, because you're the bravest person I know and you're pretty and your smile makes me happy. ~ Emilie 

She has a sweet and generous soul, Just one of many reasons I am thankful,  humbled, blessed. 

What little souls know

So I found this today...sketched by my  eight year old, on a random hotel notepad, discarded on my bedside table, next to her favourite pic of Ganesh - (the diety associated with removing obstacles in our lives.)

Maybe I am reading too much into this, or  maybe, I am simply receiving the messages I need to receive, from a wise old soul, who also happens to be my beloved, spicy, sweet and emotionally intelligent little girl. 

Snow Moon Shining

Once or twice a year the girls leave their beloved crystal collections in the window by the light of the full moon - in summer they leave them in the garden. 

The next morning they lovingly collect them, amazed by the shiny and renewed look of each one - even I am amazed at the overnight transformation ! They sort them and place some in jars of water and leave others aside as they must stay dry. 

We first tried this at a time when we needed a little magic and sparkle in our lives even though these little hands had been holding and seeking out beautiful crystals since the local toy store began carrying them, when they were very small.

Together we would sit, turning over each crystal - remembering a story about when and where it was bought, what it means, and why they like it. Watching them choose certain crystals at different times was magical in and of its self. Unlike grownups, children are hard wired to believe in magical things, in the living and breathing energy within the smallest of things. Intuitively they seem to know that there is beauty and power within them.

Over the years they have shared these treasures as gifts with friends, myself and each other. They have learned the different names and properties of the various gems and crystals - which also happens to be a part of the grade four curriculum - in case this seems a little too metaphysical and "out there".

It might seem unconventional but I believe Children are naturally drawn to the beauty of all things that come from the earth ! For my girls each stone has a story, a life energy, and is cherished.

Everyone big or small needs to believe in a little magic from time to time, to believe in the energy that surrounds us in a universe that is infinite and guided by a force that is pure love.

Just look at these beautiful crystals and how they shine after being placed before the soft energy of the moon, shining for the two little girls who treasure them !