My dad died.
There. I said it. I wrote it. Right there in black letters.
My dad died.
And I cannot wrap my brain around those 3 words.
9 months to the day that my mom passed away, we said goodbye to Dad. Taken from us after an incredibly short and mind boggling bout with cancer.
In 9 short months, cancer took both my parents and my brain cannot take it in. Grieving is different this time around. Different from grieving The Husband's dad. Different than grieving my mom. It's like my brain has locked the door and won't let me go inside that place. That place where you're sad and angry and missing the person who's gone. My brain won't let me inside there. I wonder if I should knock...ring the doorbell. But, no. I don't think I'm ready to go in to that place anyways, so I'll just sit here down on the corner and wait to get up my courage at some point in the near future.
When my mom died, I wanted to look at pictures of her. See video footage of her. Think of happy memories and was desperate to remember so I wouldn't forget. And now I catch a glimpse of my dad's picture and I have to look away. I have to make myself picture my parents together again and then move on to something else. Anything that is not thinking about the fact that there is only a teaspoon of raspberry jam left in the fridge. A solitary teaspoon of raspberry jam that Dad made with the raspberries Mom picked with my kids in their garden last summer.
I don't want this to be real. How can this be real? No. It's too much.
It's just too much.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
A Mom's Hobby
Today at work, I was reminded of what I used to do for a living. A child with autism faced with a broken down elevator that he could not ride, strangers' judgemental stares and comments, a tearful mom trying to explain to me why her son was behaving as he was.
A brief prompted conversation with a little boy who made eye contact with me. Brief. But a connection. A few moments of conversation with a mom whose plate was overflowing with worry and who just needed someone to listen to her for a moment or two.
Driving home, I wanted to call my Mom and tell her about it. I wanted her to tell me I'm doing what I need to for my family, that it's okay, I'm where I'm supposed to be in my life. I needed someone to listen to me for a moment or two.
But of course I couldn't. So I went home and ate a chocolate cupcake and now my gut is the one talking to me and it's telling me it's NOT ok, and actually, I am an idiot. 3 months since my surgery and I'm faced with the grim fact that I am an emotional eater who is about an intestinal foot short of being able to continue to be one.
Anywhoo...I do have conversations in my head with my Mom. Is that weird? Perhaps. But I do try and think about what she would say to me. I've been struggling with it lately, though, and even thinking about the sound of her voice gets harder to pull from the depths of my memory. A friend reminded me online tonight that I knew what she would say. But tonight I just couldn't hear her.
I took The Monkey out on an evening walk tonight. I thought it might help clear my head. But so many thoughts kept spinning in my head...the decisions I've made, the paths I've chosen and everything I've been through in the past while. Am I where I should be? Doing what I should be doing? That little guy at work...God, have I made the right choices?
I just want some ANSWERS, dagnabit.
And then tonight I randomly chose a book from the bookshelf to read for The Monkey's bedtime story. 'The Berenstain Bears Mama's New Job'. I opened the book and there was The Eldest's name written on the inside cover, in sweet 5 year old writing. So many years ago I used to read her bedtime stories and now she's 19 and growing her adult wings. So many years I've been at this parenting gig.
I started reading to The Monkey. In the book they discuss the Bear Family's hobbies. I turned to The Monkey and asked her what her favourite hobby was, as well as the rest of the people in our family. Her responses were cute and predictable...her favourite hobby was colouring and doing crafts, The Princess' was reading, The Eldest's was going out with her boyfriend, The Boy's was staying in his room and playing on his computer, and The Husband's was sleeping.
Then I asked her what she thought my favourite hobby was. She looked at me and smiled.
"Loving me."
Yes, my Keeley. Loving you and my family is my best hobby. The bestest hobby in the world.
Thanks Mom. It was so great to hear you tonight.
A brief prompted conversation with a little boy who made eye contact with me. Brief. But a connection. A few moments of conversation with a mom whose plate was overflowing with worry and who just needed someone to listen to her for a moment or two.
Driving home, I wanted to call my Mom and tell her about it. I wanted her to tell me I'm doing what I need to for my family, that it's okay, I'm where I'm supposed to be in my life. I needed someone to listen to me for a moment or two.
But of course I couldn't. So I went home and ate a chocolate cupcake and now my gut is the one talking to me and it's telling me it's NOT ok, and actually, I am an idiot. 3 months since my surgery and I'm faced with the grim fact that I am an emotional eater who is about an intestinal foot short of being able to continue to be one.
Anywhoo...I do have conversations in my head with my Mom. Is that weird? Perhaps. But I do try and think about what she would say to me. I've been struggling with it lately, though, and even thinking about the sound of her voice gets harder to pull from the depths of my memory. A friend reminded me online tonight that I knew what she would say. But tonight I just couldn't hear her.
I took The Monkey out on an evening walk tonight. I thought it might help clear my head. But so many thoughts kept spinning in my head...the decisions I've made, the paths I've chosen and everything I've been through in the past while. Am I where I should be? Doing what I should be doing? That little guy at work...God, have I made the right choices?
I just want some ANSWERS, dagnabit.
And then tonight I randomly chose a book from the bookshelf to read for The Monkey's bedtime story. 'The Berenstain Bears Mama's New Job'. I opened the book and there was The Eldest's name written on the inside cover, in sweet 5 year old writing. So many years ago I used to read her bedtime stories and now she's 19 and growing her adult wings. So many years I've been at this parenting gig.
I started reading to The Monkey. In the book they discuss the Bear Family's hobbies. I turned to The Monkey and asked her what her favourite hobby was, as well as the rest of the people in our family. Her responses were cute and predictable...her favourite hobby was colouring and doing crafts, The Princess' was reading, The Eldest's was going out with her boyfriend, The Boy's was staying in his room and playing on his computer, and The Husband's was sleeping.
Then I asked her what she thought my favourite hobby was. She looked at me and smiled.
"Loving me."
Yes, my Keeley. Loving you and my family is my best hobby. The bestest hobby in the world.
Thanks Mom. It was so great to hear you tonight.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Reboot
It's been a rough stretch in The Mahoney family.
The loss of The Husband's Dad.
The Husband's job.
My Mom.
Every door that opened seemed to bring fresh tears, new frustrations, more worry and endless sadness.
And every new hurt brought us further and further down a dark and unknown road with no light at the end. And we don't own a GPS. I can't tell you how many times I've sat down and started to write in this little blog of mine. There were so many things I wanted to say. So many things I wanted to write about. But the hurt was too much and I couldn't get it out. My mom kept telling me to get back at it and write, but what I needed to write about I couldn't let her read.
Despair. Pain. Disbelief. Anger. A lot of swear words.
She wouldn't have approved.
And now she's gone. I stood beside my mom and told her to go. I told my mom it was ok to go, we would all be ok. My heart was screaming don't go, please...I haven't told you I love you enough, you have to see my kids grow up, I still need to talk to you everyday on the phone, don't leave us. I don't want you to go, I don't want you to go.
The loss of The Husband's Dad.
The Husband's job.
My Mom.
Every door that opened seemed to bring fresh tears, new frustrations, more worry and endless sadness.
And every new hurt brought us further and further down a dark and unknown road with no light at the end. And we don't own a GPS. I can't tell you how many times I've sat down and started to write in this little blog of mine. There were so many things I wanted to say. So many things I wanted to write about. But the hurt was too much and I couldn't get it out. My mom kept telling me to get back at it and write, but what I needed to write about I couldn't let her read.
Despair. Pain. Disbelief. Anger. A lot of swear words.
She wouldn't have approved.
And now she's gone. I stood beside my mom and told her to go. I told my mom it was ok to go, we would all be ok. My heart was screaming don't go, please...I haven't told you I love you enough, you have to see my kids grow up, I still need to talk to you everyday on the phone, don't leave us. I don't want you to go, I don't want you to go.
But I told her it was ok to go. She looked at me, nodded her head and left us. 2 1/2 years battling breast cancer like a warrior, staying with us days longer than medically made any sense.
And I couldn't find it in me to write.
Seriously pathetic.
So I'm giving myself a reboot. Rebooting my blog. Calling a mulligan. A do over. New opportunities for The Husband and our family are on the near horizon and it's going to be all sunshine and double rainbows around this joint. Double fricking rainbows.
Or quite possibly some aurora borealis. And I've always wanted to see me some of that.
I'm back, baby. I'm back.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Soup...Mmm Mmmm Not Good
This post should be about The Princess turning 8.
I should be going on about one of my babies growing up so quickly, and what kind of birthday cereal she chose, and what we did for her big day and what dinner she wanted.
Instead, I have nothing to report about that day because I slept her birthday away. I hadn't gone to bed until 6 am and woke up at 4:30 pm with a killer migraine and the need for a serious 10 minutes tooth brushing.
Aah, food poisoning. Chicken corn chowder, I shall never look at you the same way again.
I've had food poisoning once before. Two years ago when The Husband and I went away to Victoria for our wedding anniversary I apparently ate a bad chicken caesar salad. Nothing says loving like writhing around on a bed at the Empress hotel begging to die while your husband eats take out food beside you.
That was a bad evening. But this past Friday night? Let's just say that if you men out there truly want to find out just how bad those childbirth pains really are that your wimpy wife was going on about for 18 hours or so giving you an offspring, just go put a piece of half cooked chicken out on in the sun for a day or so, then go make yourself a chicken salad sandwich.
And that was basically how I felt as I writhed on the floor of the emergency room for several hours. In the throws of labour but without a cute baby at the end. There was a cute doctor, but let me tell you, discussing your latest bowel movements with said cute doctor while you may or may not have vomit chunks in your hair totally cancels out any pleasure from that.
I would also like to point out that vomiting into an emergency waiting room toilet is about as disgusting as you just pictured it.
But lucky for me The Husband and I got to hang around the waiting room for quite a while so we got to witness two drunk guys come in and explain to the triage nurse that one of them had been bitten in the face by a homeless guy's dog. To hear them tell it, it was pretty funny if you went by the continuous giggling coming from the two men. And to this I say, thanks. Thanks for pissing off the people that were going to be shoving an IV into the back of my hand.
Some good came from all this, though. The Husband answered a lot of work emails on his Blackberry while I slept fitfully thanks to some pain killers and intravenous Gravol. By the way, did you know that stuff really stings when they give it to you and then 10 seconds later will make your right eye go all wonky and your chest all tight and you'll start to freak out and THEN the nurse might tell you that's all normal and would I just relax, relax, already?
Here's a tip for you lady. How 'bout you tell me that before so I don't freak out to begin with? That's my suggestion. Take it or leave it.
And so, life is back to 'normal' around these parts today. My migraine finally left me midday yesterday afternoon and here I sit, 5 pounds lighter. To top it off, the soup company contacted me this morning and are refunding me the cost of that soup and just might be sending me some coupons.
For more soup.
I should be going on about one of my babies growing up so quickly, and what kind of birthday cereal she chose, and what we did for her big day and what dinner she wanted.
Instead, I have nothing to report about that day because I slept her birthday away. I hadn't gone to bed until 6 am and woke up at 4:30 pm with a killer migraine and the need for a serious 10 minutes tooth brushing.
Aah, food poisoning. Chicken corn chowder, I shall never look at you the same way again.
I've had food poisoning once before. Two years ago when The Husband and I went away to Victoria for our wedding anniversary I apparently ate a bad chicken caesar salad. Nothing says loving like writhing around on a bed at the Empress hotel begging to die while your husband eats take out food beside you.
That was a bad evening. But this past Friday night? Let's just say that if you men out there truly want to find out just how bad those childbirth pains really are that your wimpy wife was going on about for 18 hours or so giving you an offspring, just go put a piece of half cooked chicken out on in the sun for a day or so, then go make yourself a chicken salad sandwich.
And that was basically how I felt as I writhed on the floor of the emergency room for several hours. In the throws of labour but without a cute baby at the end. There was a cute doctor, but let me tell you, discussing your latest bowel movements with said cute doctor while you may or may not have vomit chunks in your hair totally cancels out any pleasure from that.
I would also like to point out that vomiting into an emergency waiting room toilet is about as disgusting as you just pictured it.
But lucky for me The Husband and I got to hang around the waiting room for quite a while so we got to witness two drunk guys come in and explain to the triage nurse that one of them had been bitten in the face by a homeless guy's dog. To hear them tell it, it was pretty funny if you went by the continuous giggling coming from the two men. And to this I say, thanks. Thanks for pissing off the people that were going to be shoving an IV into the back of my hand.
Some good came from all this, though. The Husband answered a lot of work emails on his Blackberry while I slept fitfully thanks to some pain killers and intravenous Gravol. By the way, did you know that stuff really stings when they give it to you and then 10 seconds later will make your right eye go all wonky and your chest all tight and you'll start to freak out and THEN the nurse might tell you that's all normal and would I just relax, relax, already?
Here's a tip for you lady. How 'bout you tell me that before so I don't freak out to begin with? That's my suggestion. Take it or leave it.
And so, life is back to 'normal' around these parts today. My migraine finally left me midday yesterday afternoon and here I sit, 5 pounds lighter. To top it off, the soup company contacted me this morning and are refunding me the cost of that soup and just might be sending me some coupons.
For more soup.
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Difference Between The Husband and Me
I had to pick up a few things at the grocery store today. The sun was shining, I was without children and gosh darn it, it felt great.
20 minutes all to myself and I spent it inside Save-On-Foods. Who needs beer when you live life like I do.
The bill came to $10.34. I handed the cashier a ten dollar bill and 35 cents. She took the money and put it inside the till.
Then she asked me if I wanted my change.
She apparently doesn't read my blog.
I'll be honest with you. Although I razzed my dear husband about not wanting those two pennies back at MickyD's, I honestly didn't know what I would have said.
I found out today.
"Yes."
I told the cashier I wanted my penny.
Let me just pause while that sinks in.
Yes. I said YES I wanted my dang penny, thankyouverymuch, took that penny and put it in my change purse. It was pure instinct. No hesitation. And with witnesses present. It's not like I was in the drive thu. I publicly announced to the entire quick serve 15 items or less line that yes, Scottish blood runs through my veins and I wanted a solitary penny.
But dang it, a person's got to have principles. right? If I had paid by debit card, she wouldn't have asked if she should just round up my total to $10.35, right?
Right?
They're not gonna start doing that, right? 'Cause I can't take the humiliation.
20 minutes all to myself and I spent it inside Save-On-Foods. Who needs beer when you live life like I do.
The bill came to $10.34. I handed the cashier a ten dollar bill and 35 cents. She took the money and put it inside the till.
Then she asked me if I wanted my change.
She apparently doesn't read my blog.
I'll be honest with you. Although I razzed my dear husband about not wanting those two pennies back at MickyD's, I honestly didn't know what I would have said.
I found out today.
"Yes."
I told the cashier I wanted my penny.
Let me just pause while that sinks in.
Yes. I said YES I wanted my dang penny, thankyouverymuch, took that penny and put it in my change purse. It was pure instinct. No hesitation. And with witnesses present. It's not like I was in the drive thu. I publicly announced to the entire quick serve 15 items or less line that yes, Scottish blood runs through my veins and I wanted a solitary penny.
But dang it, a person's got to have principles. right? If I had paid by debit card, she wouldn't have asked if she should just round up my total to $10.35, right?
Right?
They're not gonna start doing that, right? 'Cause I can't take the humiliation.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Eye of the Storm
God never gives you more than you can handle.
Right?
I found myself praying for strength tonight. Strength to help a 7 year old who was crying in her bed. She was crying because tomorrow wasn't going to be right since her Popeye wasn't going to be at her cousin's baptism.
"I just want him to come back and I know he can't. I don't like it. I just don't like this! I want it to be like it was before. And I won't ever see him again for like, 50 years at least because I won't see him until I go to heaven....and I don't want to go to heaven yet but I want to see him."
Sometimes you just have to let your children hurt. You can't fix it. You can't put a bandaid on it and make it better. And that, my friends, is a horrible horrible feeling.
The Princess episode tonight was just one of many reasons I found myself asking God for strength tonight.
The Eldest is having some major problems with her car.
The laptop is having troubles charging and every single time I type the letter 'a' I have to go back and retype it because the computer keeps putting in a space instead.
The engine light is back on in our car.
The government 'lost' The Eldest's student loan forms.
I've done something to my back and my joints are killing me today.
And we're out of lightbulbs. I'm pretty sure it is not normal to start crying when you discover there are no more light bulbs in the house.
Grieving and all that comes along with it has set everyone in the family on edge. Everyone in our family is raw. And when you pour salt into those wounds, salt being a broken car, bills to pay or a 3 year old that keeps screaming at everyone and everything and then finking that everyone is being rude to her...well....it leads a person to be crying over burned out light bulbs.
And so I pray for strength. Just get through one more day. Just let me know what to say to a grieving 7 year old and a grieving 42 year old. What to tell an 18 year old who has had more crap thrown at her in the last two weeks than an 18 year old should have to deal with in a year.
And then realize that I haven't prayed for answers on dealing with a grieving 15 year old boy who holes himself up in his room shooting at things on his Xbox. So I pray for help...not to let him get lost in all of this.
It's 10:15 pm and I have no idea what the 6 people in this family are wearing to the baptism in the morning. I'm feeling rather numb after this day and I just want to sit with this tiny kitten sleeping under my chin right now. This furry little thing is purring and giving out the odd "mmmrrttt" when it stretches and then pulls itself further up under my chin. The Dog is snoring behind me, guarding the door and giving off the odd fart.
Life goes on. So many people are going through 100x worse than our family. I pray for perspective in all of this. And I'm just going to sit here for a bit and enjoy the company of a kitten curled up on my chest, breathing on my neck and every once in a while licking my chin with its rough little tongue.
Recharge my spirit with the fluff of a kitten.
I should be writing for Hallmark. Gah.
Right?
I found myself praying for strength tonight. Strength to help a 7 year old who was crying in her bed. She was crying because tomorrow wasn't going to be right since her Popeye wasn't going to be at her cousin's baptism.
"I just want him to come back and I know he can't. I don't like it. I just don't like this! I want it to be like it was before. And I won't ever see him again for like, 50 years at least because I won't see him until I go to heaven....and I don't want to go to heaven yet but I want to see him."
Sometimes you just have to let your children hurt. You can't fix it. You can't put a bandaid on it and make it better. And that, my friends, is a horrible horrible feeling.
The Princess episode tonight was just one of many reasons I found myself asking God for strength tonight.
The Eldest is having some major problems with her car.
The laptop is having troubles charging and every single time I type the letter 'a' I have to go back and retype it because the computer keeps putting in a space instead.
The engine light is back on in our car.
The government 'lost' The Eldest's student loan forms.
I've done something to my back and my joints are killing me today.
And we're out of lightbulbs. I'm pretty sure it is not normal to start crying when you discover there are no more light bulbs in the house.
Grieving and all that comes along with it has set everyone in the family on edge. Everyone in our family is raw. And when you pour salt into those wounds, salt being a broken car, bills to pay or a 3 year old that keeps screaming at everyone and everything and then finking that everyone is being rude to her...well....it leads a person to be crying over burned out light bulbs.
And so I pray for strength. Just get through one more day. Just let me know what to say to a grieving 7 year old and a grieving 42 year old. What to tell an 18 year old who has had more crap thrown at her in the last two weeks than an 18 year old should have to deal with in a year.
And then realize that I haven't prayed for answers on dealing with a grieving 15 year old boy who holes himself up in his room shooting at things on his Xbox. So I pray for help...not to let him get lost in all of this.
It's 10:15 pm and I have no idea what the 6 people in this family are wearing to the baptism in the morning. I'm feeling rather numb after this day and I just want to sit with this tiny kitten sleeping under my chin right now. This furry little thing is purring and giving out the odd "mmmrrttt" when it stretches and then pulls itself further up under my chin. The Dog is snoring behind me, guarding the door and giving off the odd fart.
Life goes on. So many people are going through 100x worse than our family. I pray for perspective in all of this. And I'm just going to sit here for a bit and enjoy the company of a kitten curled up on my chest, breathing on my neck and every once in a while licking my chin with its rough little tongue.
Recharge my spirit with the fluff of a kitten.
I should be writing for Hallmark. Gah.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Well, Hello There
Days and weeks have passed.
Here I have sat, watching So You Think You Can Dance, playing spider solitaire, nagging my children, drinking the occasional beer, reading books on fasting, and contemplating life.
But no blogging.
Sometimes when life seems to be throwing you a bit too much crap, all you want to do is dodge the doo doo and not make a facial mask out of it.
Or write about it.
I mean, I could have written about my $400 van bill. And then whined about how the van that we've owned for 4 months needs another $1,000 worth of work.
But I don't want to go on and on about how that trench in my back yard is going to stay that way instead of turning into a nice patio because my minivan wants working water thingamajigs.
And so I didn't blog.
I could have written about the cute little hamster that The Princess sweet talked The Husband into purchasing. But then I'd have to find the cord for the camera to download the pictures and who the heck knows where that is.
And so I didn't blog.
I most certainly could have posted about the hour and a quarter wait at the doctor's office, or putting my brand new I only wore it once new cotton shirt in the dryer, or asked you what the heck that brown spot on the girls' bedroom carpet could possibly be, but I've blocked it all out.
And so I didn't blog.
I really wanted to blog about the big family reunion, but I got all weepy at the thought of my deceased grandparents looking down on all of us and just being so amazingly pleased at what they created, that I couldn't finish that post.
And so I didn't blog.
I've been completely blown away by information that has surfaced about a very popular mommy blog that I've been reading for a long time. And felt weird about. I wish I had listened to my instincts about it all. But then reading all the backlash over it and seeing how incredibly quick other bloggers have been to rip her to shreds and bend over backwards to dig up dirt on the blogger....well...it's left me pretty jaded over all this blogging stuff.
And so I didn't blog.
But now I'm getting harassing messages posted on Facebook and friends (yes, that would be YOU Ms. K) who refuse to come over for coffee until I post something into the blogesphere.
And so. I've blogged.
I'm free Tues, Ms. K.
Oh, and Ms. M....I expect a new blog entry from you by Monday.
Here I have sat, watching So You Think You Can Dance, playing spider solitaire, nagging my children, drinking the occasional beer, reading books on fasting, and contemplating life.
But no blogging.
Sometimes when life seems to be throwing you a bit too much crap, all you want to do is dodge the doo doo and not make a facial mask out of it.
Or write about it.
I mean, I could have written about my $400 van bill. And then whined about how the van that we've owned for 4 months needs another $1,000 worth of work.
But I don't want to go on and on about how that trench in my back yard is going to stay that way instead of turning into a nice patio because my minivan wants working water thingamajigs.
And so I didn't blog.
I could have written about the cute little hamster that The Princess sweet talked The Husband into purchasing. But then I'd have to find the cord for the camera to download the pictures and who the heck knows where that is.
And so I didn't blog.
I most certainly could have posted about the hour and a quarter wait at the doctor's office, or putting my brand new I only wore it once new cotton shirt in the dryer, or asked you what the heck that brown spot on the girls' bedroom carpet could possibly be, but I've blocked it all out.
And so I didn't blog.
I really wanted to blog about the big family reunion, but I got all weepy at the thought of my deceased grandparents looking down on all of us and just being so amazingly pleased at what they created, that I couldn't finish that post.
And so I didn't blog.
I've been completely blown away by information that has surfaced about a very popular mommy blog that I've been reading for a long time. And felt weird about. I wish I had listened to my instincts about it all. But then reading all the backlash over it and seeing how incredibly quick other bloggers have been to rip her to shreds and bend over backwards to dig up dirt on the blogger....well...it's left me pretty jaded over all this blogging stuff.
And so I didn't blog.
But now I'm getting harassing messages posted on Facebook and friends (yes, that would be YOU Ms. K) who refuse to come over for coffee until I post something into the blogesphere.
And so. I've blogged.
I'm free Tues, Ms. K.
Oh, and Ms. M....I expect a new blog entry from you by Monday.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Yesterday
Lots of people have monumental days.
Yesterday was mine.
I caught a whiff of the greatness to follow when I found myself standing in the kitchen at 7:20 am, coffee brewing, and had the profound realization that I only had to make 1 lunch, not four.
I drove over the Golden Ears Bridge for the first time. The sun was sort of shining, the golden eagles were stunning against the blue sky and I got to my parent's house in 32 minutes.
32 minutes.
What used to be an hour and a quarter to an hour and a half trip took me 32 minutes.
God bless engineers and construction workers.
I picked up the professional pictures of The Eldest's graduation. And the brilliant and wonderful photographer Peggy Wynne gave me a bunch of extra photos that I hadn't even ordered.
The day just got better. My mom wasn't feeling well when I was there, but she called later to say she was feeling much better. You gotta love those kind of phone calls.
The Eldest wrote her final Provincial examination. She's done. She's officially finished high school.
It just got better. The Husband locked his keys in his car, so I had to drive 30 minutes to bring the extra set of keys. AND I DIDN'T TAKE ANY CHILDREN WITH ME.
After unlocking the car, The Husband took me out for a beer and pizza. And we got to sit and talk about life and it was awesome.
And if you can believe it, I topped off the day with this:
I found Waldo.
All in all, a monumental day.
Yesterday was mine.
I caught a whiff of the greatness to follow when I found myself standing in the kitchen at 7:20 am, coffee brewing, and had the profound realization that I only had to make 1 lunch, not four.
I drove over the Golden Ears Bridge for the first time. The sun was sort of shining, the golden eagles were stunning against the blue sky and I got to my parent's house in 32 minutes.
32 minutes.What used to be an hour and a quarter to an hour and a half trip took me 32 minutes.
God bless engineers and construction workers.
I picked up the professional pictures of The Eldest's graduation. And the brilliant and wonderful photographer Peggy Wynne gave me a bunch of extra photos that I hadn't even ordered.
The day just got better. My mom wasn't feeling well when I was there, but she called later to say she was feeling much better. You gotta love those kind of phone calls.
The Eldest wrote her final Provincial examination. She's done. She's officially finished high school.
It just got better. The Husband locked his keys in his car, so I had to drive 30 minutes to bring the extra set of keys. AND I DIDN'T TAKE ANY CHILDREN WITH ME.
After unlocking the car, The Husband took me out for a beer and pizza. And we got to sit and talk about life and it was awesome.
And if you can believe it, I topped off the day with this:
I found Waldo.
All in all, a monumental day.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
A Monumental Day
My baby graduated from high school yesterday.
The 8 pound 3 ounce bundle that arrived after 26 hours of labour and made The Husband and me parents. That was just last year, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
Wasn't it just 6 months ago that I left her sitting on the floor in her new kindergarten room? Was it not yesterday we dropped her off in front of her new high school, scared out of her mind at starting a new school and not knowing a soul.
And yesterday, I watched my baby walk into her school gymnasium donned in cap and gown. I watched her receive the "Excellence in Textiles" award, a $1,000 scholarship, and of course her high school diploma.
Yes. I cried.
The 8 pound 3 ounce bundle that arrived after 26 hours of labour and made The Husband and me parents. That was just last year, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
Wasn't it just 6 months ago that I left her sitting on the floor in her new kindergarten room? Was it not yesterday we dropped her off in front of her new high school, scared out of her mind at starting a new school and not knowing a soul.
And yesterday, I watched my baby walk into her school gymnasium donned in cap and gown. I watched her receive the "Excellence in Textiles" award, a $1,000 scholarship, and of course her high school diploma.
Yes. I cried.
The Eldest and The Boyfriend. The future is theirs.
And here are the proud parents. See? I think I hid my 'holy crap I am not old enough to have a high school graduate' feelings fairly well.
The afternoon was spent getting hair and make up done by my brother's girlfriend. She did an incredible job.
And here is the result:
That's my little girl there....looking like a woman.
Yes, I course I cried. I'm not made of stone.
All in all, it was a great day. A very busy day. The Husband got to dance with his little princess at her prom (then they kicked all the parents out). We drove home and talked about how the day had been a whirlwind of activity and monumental moments.
When we got home, I asked The Boy if he thought his grad in 3 years would be such a production. His eyerolls lead me to believe it won't if he has anything to do with it.
Since I had volunteered The Husband to deal poker all night at the grad's dry grad (which took place back at their school after their dinner/dance), he decided to go have a nap. When I went to wake him up, this is what I found:
Apparently, the day was exhausting for everyone.
This morning, I woke up to The Princess asking if she could go downstairs. I looked at the clock and couldn't believe the time. "Wow," I thought. "We were all wiped! The Baby never sleeps this late."
No. The Baby really never sleeps in late.
Can you guess what this is?
Here are the mug shots.
My Baby with a mullet. Nice.
We're off to the hairdresser's today. Apparently.
Tomorrow she turns 3. Everyone can use a new birthday 'do, right?
Monday, April 20, 2009
The Weekend Away
The Eldest and I had a great weekend away.
Judging from the state of the house when we got home, the rest of the family had a great weekend eating takeout and not cleaning anything.
But they're all alive and that is what's important, right?
Right?
The Griswold Girls Weekend Road Trip to Kelowna started off with us deciding to get lost while on a quest to find A & W root beer. I've always wanted to see Boston Bar. Scratch that off the Bucket List.
I never wanted to discover Spence's Bridge. To be honest, I never knew it existed. But discover it we did, which was good because otherwise it meant we would have been visiting Cache Creek which was totally not Kelowna.
If you're confused, that's good. Now you know how I felt when we hit flipping Boston Bar.
And I totally don't blame the Husband for giving me the wrong directions on the phone. I take all the blame. I knew I should have bought him a GPS system for Christmas.
Plus, I learned something. There is no cell phone coverage in Boston Bar. Oh, and always ask the Eldest if she still has her cell phone after using the restroom in Merritt. I think I performed an illegal maneuver making that u-turn on the highway up to Kelowna.
Once we arrived in beautiful Kelowna, we had a great time. Lots of chocolate, salty snacks, great company, cell phone coverage and all cell phones accounted for the entire holiday. We found the perfect jewelry for the Eldest's graduation. As we wound our way down the correct road home, the sun was shining on the snow covered mountains, the tunes were playing and I ignored the reality that was waiting for me at home.
A wonderful trip with the Eldest who used to be my Baby.
Judging from the state of the house when we got home, the rest of the family had a great weekend eating takeout and not cleaning anything.
But they're all alive and that is what's important, right?
Right?
The Griswold Girls Weekend Road Trip to Kelowna started off with us deciding to get lost while on a quest to find A & W root beer. I've always wanted to see Boston Bar. Scratch that off the Bucket List.
I never wanted to discover Spence's Bridge. To be honest, I never knew it existed. But discover it we did, which was good because otherwise it meant we would have been visiting Cache Creek which was totally not Kelowna.
If you're confused, that's good. Now you know how I felt when we hit flipping Boston Bar.
And I totally don't blame the Husband for giving me the wrong directions on the phone. I take all the blame. I knew I should have bought him a GPS system for Christmas.
Plus, I learned something. There is no cell phone coverage in Boston Bar. Oh, and always ask the Eldest if she still has her cell phone after using the restroom in Merritt. I think I performed an illegal maneuver making that u-turn on the highway up to Kelowna.
Once we arrived in beautiful Kelowna, we had a great time. Lots of chocolate, salty snacks, great company, cell phone coverage and all cell phones accounted for the entire holiday. We found the perfect jewelry for the Eldest's graduation. As we wound our way down the correct road home, the sun was shining on the snow covered mountains, the tunes were playing and I ignored the reality that was waiting for me at home.
A wonderful trip with the Eldest who used to be my Baby.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
What I Learned During Lent
I gave up beer and junk food for Lent.
Maybe you heard.
Once or twice.
It's not like I'm a lush or anything. When I say I gave up beer for Lent, I'm talking about the equivalent of giving up 3 or 4 beer a week. The junk food.....well, uh....yes. I gave that up, too.
I don't always give up something for Lent. Sometimes I DO something. Like get up at 6:30 am and go for a run. In my defense, I was much younger then and had two working hips and two fewer children so it seemed less insane at the time.
Sometimes my Lenten challenge is just between myself and Jesus. But whatever it is, I try not to whine about what I'm doing or not doing because that's not what it's about. Every year I learn something about myself and work on my relationship with Jesus.
But this Lent, there was an added bonus.
For 40+ days, I didn't drink beer. I did not eat junk food. (Except for around my birthday....hey, I was turning 40. What better way to celebrate that but with a Bellini and a thick piece of cheese cake?) And guess what? In those 40+ days, I had only 1 migraine and it lasted for only a day and a half instead of the usual 3 days. And I lost 5 pounds. And I feel better.
It's like finding out diamonds aren't a girl's best friend, my favourite coffee is not ethically grown and my beautiful children write bad things about me in their diaries. Then someone punches me in the stomach and asks if I'd like a lovely cup of Earl Grey tea with the milk poured in the cup first, just as it ought to be.
So that kinda sucks.
Migraines or beer. Fat or chocolate. Feel good all day or feel good for a moment with salty dill pickle chips on my lips.
So the choice has been made. I've been shown the way. If my life is full of junk food and beer then it will also be full of migraines and jigglierer...er arms. Oh, the tangled web that is my life.
This is my compromise. Weekdays will see me walking the straight and narrow. Weekends will be filled with puppy dogs and fluffy kittens and the occasional beer. Or some baked dill pickle chips. Or the odd chocolate fondue. Or cookies or Easter eggs or pop or chips and dip or cake or.....
But today is Tuesday.
We'll see how it goes. Moderation. My new best friend or my new worst enemy?
Maybe you heard.
Once or twice.
It's not like I'm a lush or anything. When I say I gave up beer for Lent, I'm talking about the equivalent of giving up 3 or 4 beer a week. The junk food.....well, uh....yes. I gave that up, too.
I don't always give up something for Lent. Sometimes I DO something. Like get up at 6:30 am and go for a run. In my defense, I was much younger then and had two working hips and two fewer children so it seemed less insane at the time.
Sometimes my Lenten challenge is just between myself and Jesus. But whatever it is, I try not to whine about what I'm doing or not doing because that's not what it's about. Every year I learn something about myself and work on my relationship with Jesus.
But this Lent, there was an added bonus.
For 40+ days, I didn't drink beer. I did not eat junk food. (Except for around my birthday....hey, I was turning 40. What better way to celebrate that but with a Bellini and a thick piece of cheese cake?) And guess what? In those 40+ days, I had only 1 migraine and it lasted for only a day and a half instead of the usual 3 days. And I lost 5 pounds. And I feel better.
It's like finding out diamonds aren't a girl's best friend, my favourite coffee is not ethically grown and my beautiful children write bad things about me in their diaries. Then someone punches me in the stomach and asks if I'd like a lovely cup of Earl Grey tea with the milk poured in the cup first, just as it ought to be.
So that kinda sucks.
Migraines or beer. Fat or chocolate. Feel good all day or feel good for a moment with salty dill pickle chips on my lips.
So the choice has been made. I've been shown the way. If my life is full of junk food and beer then it will also be full of migraines and jigglierer...er arms. Oh, the tangled web that is my life.
This is my compromise. Weekdays will see me walking the straight and narrow. Weekends will be filled with puppy dogs and fluffy kittens and the occasional beer. Or some baked dill pickle chips. Or the odd chocolate fondue. Or cookies or Easter eggs or pop or chips and dip or cake or.....
But today is Tuesday.
We'll see how it goes. Moderation. My new best friend or my new worst enemy?
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Ebbing and Flowing
There's an ebb and flow to blogging.
There's been a lot of ebbing and not a lot of flowing going on around this little blog.
I have a lot of excuses. I had a cold. There was a child with a cold. Then there was a husband with cold.
'Nuff said about that.
Oh, and we were out shopping for alternative transportation of the non eggplant kind. And, BOOOYA! We found one.
I never thought I could be so excited about spending money. And about spending money on a minivan. On a 6 year old minivan. That is not purple.
I know many people get rid of their vehicles when they get to the great age of 6. There's a lot of people who probably think that my euphoria is uncalled for. I mean, where's the zing in a 6 year old minivan? Even if it's not purple.
Well, those people were not driving a 13 year old purple minivan.
Everything in life is relative. A full fridge and pantry that's the norm to one person is only a dream to many others. A house full of kids can be frustrating and cause a harried mom to pray to God for just one quiet moment to herself. But a childless woman prays to God to take away all the quietness in her life, and replace it with a child.
Rough patches in life make us appreciate the good.
The bad helps us to clarify what 'good' really is.
It's tough when you're in the middle of all the crap, but truly helps us to be grateful for the 6 year old minivan. That's full of children and groceries.
Ah, the ebb and flow of life. It's a wonderful thing.
There's been a lot of ebbing and not a lot of flowing going on around this little blog.
I have a lot of excuses. I had a cold. There was a child with a cold. Then there was a husband with cold.
'Nuff said about that.
Oh, and we were out shopping for alternative transportation of the non eggplant kind. And, BOOOYA! We found one.
I never thought I could be so excited about spending money. And about spending money on a minivan. On a 6 year old minivan. That is not purple.
I know many people get rid of their vehicles when they get to the great age of 6. There's a lot of people who probably think that my euphoria is uncalled for. I mean, where's the zing in a 6 year old minivan? Even if it's not purple.
Well, those people were not driving a 13 year old purple minivan.
Everything in life is relative. A full fridge and pantry that's the norm to one person is only a dream to many others. A house full of kids can be frustrating and cause a harried mom to pray to God for just one quiet moment to herself. But a childless woman prays to God to take away all the quietness in her life, and replace it with a child.
Rough patches in life make us appreciate the good.
The bad helps us to clarify what 'good' really is.
It's tough when you're in the middle of all the crap, but truly helps us to be grateful for the 6 year old minivan. That's full of children and groceries.
Ah, the ebb and flow of life. It's a wonderful thing.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
New vs Old
A few of you might already know this, but I drive a 13 year old purple minivan. Tentative Equinox would beg to differ and says it is more the colour of an eggplant.
Here are eggplants.
That's the colour of my minivan.
It's purple.
It's now 13 years old. It owes us nothing. We bought it about 3 years ago, when it was a mere 10 years old minivan and had no dents. It's easy to drive, albeit fairly warm in the cabin space due to having the heater turned on full force 85% of the time so the engine doesn't overheat. We've had to spend money on repairs over the past 3 years, as old minivan owners are apt to do. New tires. Brakes. Something else big went wrong that cost $800 bucks to fix. I choose to not remember what it was. Something under the hood and involving pine tree needles and computer chips. Please don't ask.
We have another vehicle that we bought almost 4 years ago. We sold our gas guzzling Explorer and bought a 5 seater Dodge SX that is great on gas. It was to be our only vehicle as both the Husband and I worked within minutes of each other. And it was a 5 seater. 5 seat belts. 5 people in our family. Which of course meant I was pregnant 3 months later. Hence the minivan.
When I drive the new(ish) car, I can pretend I'm not turning 40 in two short weeks. It's not full of fishy cracker bits, car seats and reusable shopping bags. There is no stroller in the back. And I am sure it is going to get me from point A to point B.
Or at least that's how it was until the little engine light came on. Off to the repair shop it went, where they performed a little thing called a "diagnostic", which is code for 'charge $95 to the shmuck sitting in the waiting area'.
The "diagnostic" apparently tells the mechanic exactly what area of the vehicle needs to be fixed. Unless your last name is Mahoney and you own a 3 and 3 quarters year old vehicle. Then it will take 3 times (knock on wood) and close to $1,000 dollars to hopefully fix the problem.
Which brings me to my point. I think I have one.
New is not better. But it costs more.
More is not necessarily better or more efficient. But it costs more.
Higher tech is not necessarily more intelligent. But it costs more.
Human beings are letting machines tell us what's wrong. And it costs more. And it's not necessary correct.
Those are all points, I guess, but now that I think about it, I think my real point is it's wrong to have to spend almost a thousand bucks on a 3 and 3 quarters year old car.
And on that point, I think you should head over to Tentative Equinox's blog. She may accuse me of driving an eggplant, and perhaps she needs to use her side view mirrors on a more regular basis, but she sums up my point way better than I could have.
Less should be the new more. And we'd all be happier for it.
Which is good because that means the Mahoney family is going to be ecstatic eating macaroni and cheese for the next month.
Here are eggplants.
That's the colour of my minivan.
It's purple.
It's now 13 years old. It owes us nothing. We bought it about 3 years ago, when it was a mere 10 years old minivan and had no dents. It's easy to drive, albeit fairly warm in the cabin space due to having the heater turned on full force 85% of the time so the engine doesn't overheat. We've had to spend money on repairs over the past 3 years, as old minivan owners are apt to do. New tires. Brakes. Something else big went wrong that cost $800 bucks to fix. I choose to not remember what it was. Something under the hood and involving pine tree needles and computer chips. Please don't ask.
We have another vehicle that we bought almost 4 years ago. We sold our gas guzzling Explorer and bought a 5 seater Dodge SX that is great on gas. It was to be our only vehicle as both the Husband and I worked within minutes of each other. And it was a 5 seater. 5 seat belts. 5 people in our family. Which of course meant I was pregnant 3 months later. Hence the minivan.
When I drive the new(ish) car, I can pretend I'm not turning 40 in two short weeks. It's not full of fishy cracker bits, car seats and reusable shopping bags. There is no stroller in the back. And I am sure it is going to get me from point A to point B.
Or at least that's how it was until the little engine light came on. Off to the repair shop it went, where they performed a little thing called a "diagnostic", which is code for 'charge $95 to the shmuck sitting in the waiting area'.
The "diagnostic" apparently tells the mechanic exactly what area of the vehicle needs to be fixed. Unless your last name is Mahoney and you own a 3 and 3 quarters year old vehicle. Then it will take 3 times (knock on wood) and close to $1,000 dollars to hopefully fix the problem.
Which brings me to my point. I think I have one.
New is not better. But it costs more.
More is not necessarily better or more efficient. But it costs more.
Higher tech is not necessarily more intelligent. But it costs more.
Human beings are letting machines tell us what's wrong. And it costs more. And it's not necessary correct.
Those are all points, I guess, but now that I think about it, I think my real point is it's wrong to have to spend almost a thousand bucks on a 3 and 3 quarters year old car.
And on that point, I think you should head over to Tentative Equinox's blog. She may accuse me of driving an eggplant, and perhaps she needs to use her side view mirrors on a more regular basis, but she sums up my point way better than I could have.
Less should be the new more. And we'd all be happier for it.
Which is good because that means the Mahoney family is going to be ecstatic eating macaroni and cheese for the next month.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
On Being an Adult
Sometimes, things aren’t funny. Life is messy, and some days it feels like I’m the only one cleaning any of it up. I’m the only one watching the kids in the playground. I’m the only one not paying someone else to raise my kids. I’m the only one without a career and 8 pairs of Italian leather boots. I’m the only who serves my family meals that they haven’t ordered from a sticky menu. I’m the only one who’s driving around a 12 year old wet dog smelling purple mini van with a dent in the left front panel. God I wish I were making up the part about the purple.
Yes, life is not as they described it. It’s like I neglected to notice the fine print at the bottom of the glossy brochure.
ADULT LIFE!!
THROW AWAY THOSE PESKY TEENAGE YEARS!
MAKE YOUR OWN DECISIONS!
CREATE YOUR OWN DESTINY!!
TRAVEL! HAVE SEX!! BUY YOUR OWN LIQUOR!!!
Yes, you too can join the ranks of ‘adult’ even though you’re way too young, stupid and have absolutely no experience in making any significant and important life decisions such as:
Yes, life is not as they described it. It’s like I neglected to notice the fine print at the bottom of the glossy brochure.
ADULT LIFE!!
THROW AWAY THOSE PESKY TEENAGE YEARS!
MAKE YOUR OWN DECISIONS!
CREATE YOUR OWN DESTINY!!
TRAVEL! HAVE SEX!! BUY YOUR OWN LIQUOR!!!
Yes, you too can join the ranks of ‘adult’ even though you’re way too young, stupid and have absolutely no experience in making any significant and important life decisions such as:
Deciding on your career for the next 40 years
Choosing a life mate
Reproducing
Child Rearing
Knowing how much liquor is too much liquor
Is undercoating on your new vehicle a scam?
Thinking you can afford a new vehicle with undercoating
And so much more.....
ACT NOW!!
This is a limited time offer.
Disclaimer – Any and all forms of birth control will eventually fail. Travel and children do not mix. Any and all decisions made will have a lifetime of consequences. Liquor is an expensive way to deal with regretful decisions. If you are female, you cannot have it all. If you are a male, a woman will make your life a living hell 3 days per month. This life can be revoked at any time without warning or reason. You may not trade in the body given to you for a newer model. It is strongly advised to take care of the one you've been issued.
ACT NOW!!
This is a limited time offer.
Disclaimer – Any and all forms of birth control will eventually fail. Travel and children do not mix. Any and all decisions made will have a lifetime of consequences. Liquor is an expensive way to deal with regretful decisions. If you are female, you cannot have it all. If you are a male, a woman will make your life a living hell 3 days per month. This life can be revoked at any time without warning or reason. You may not trade in the body given to you for a newer model. It is strongly advised to take care of the one you've been issued.
That's my problem. I never read the fine print. Not when signing my life away with our mortgage, our life insurance, or creating an account on Facebook.
When you’re 19, you believe the ‘act now!!’ bit. You jump in with both feet, knowing you’re going to be the one to change the world and have fun doing it all at the same time.
And in the blink of an eye, you’re looking down the barrel of a 40th birthday invitation and you wonder what the heck happened to all your dreams and wishful thinking.
Life happened.
Some days I think perhaps I just bought the wrong model.
On all the other ones, I know that I have the life I wanted. Most of it anyways. And if I go back and read the fine print, I realize that I cannot have it all, at least not all at once anyways.
I hope this melancholy is gone by tomorrow.
* Reminder!! The contest is closing tonight at 11pm! Get your comments in for a chance to win a glorious prize. *
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Health
I've gone for years without really thinking about taking care of my physical body. Other than gimping up my hip giving birth to my youngest, I really haven't had much reason to use our health care system. The past two weeks seem to have the powers that be bombarding me with reminders that this isn't necessarily the best long term plan.
In the past two weeks, the following has been diagnosed in our immediate and extended family:
In the past two weeks, the following has been diagnosed in our immediate and extended family:
- Breast cancer
- Retina tear
- Adult onset diabetes
This week, a close friend's mother in law passed away from cancer.
This week, an extended family member fell and had to be taken to the hospital.
One starts to ponder life just a little bit when things keep poking a person in the eye like that. And I've come to a conclusion. Get ready for it. It's a doozy.
This aging thing sucks.
Oh, and I need to start eating way more fruit and vegetables in my diet.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Friends
I met up with two of my oldest friends last night. Oldest as in I've been friends with them since I was in grade 1, not as in they're octogenarians.
There's something about old friends that feels like putting on your most favourite comfy jeans and a fuzzy sweatshirt. They just feel right.
We rarely see each other. Sometimes we go for years without meeting face to face. But we pick up where we left off, listening to each other's lauds and laments. None of us can remember details of each other's lives because we've all had children and hence have lost much of our short term memory, but we cover that in the first 10 minutes (How old is....? What grade...? How long....?).
Then we move on to life. The kind of stuff that stays between friends. Not gossip. Real life stuff. And then you realize that two hours has gone by. You hug and say goodbye, and mentally add more items to your prayer list. Life is full of ups and downs and lots of detours along the way.
My husband was away with friends this weekend, long time friends that he doesn't see everyday. Two days away. Lots more than 2 hours. And I think those men discussed how many pumpkin scones they each got to eat. When he got back, he did not know if so and so was still seeing the long distance girlfriend, how work was going for so and so, how so and so was dealing with......you get the idea. But he did mention what types of beer they all drank.
I'm beginning to think that men and women are wired differently.
There's something about old friends that feels like putting on your most favourite comfy jeans and a fuzzy sweatshirt. They just feel right.
We rarely see each other. Sometimes we go for years without meeting face to face. But we pick up where we left off, listening to each other's lauds and laments. None of us can remember details of each other's lives because we've all had children and hence have lost much of our short term memory, but we cover that in the first 10 minutes (How old is....? What grade...? How long....?).
Then we move on to life. The kind of stuff that stays between friends. Not gossip. Real life stuff. And then you realize that two hours has gone by. You hug and say goodbye, and mentally add more items to your prayer list. Life is full of ups and downs and lots of detours along the way.
My husband was away with friends this weekend, long time friends that he doesn't see everyday. Two days away. Lots more than 2 hours. And I think those men discussed how many pumpkin scones they each got to eat. When he got back, he did not know if so and so was still seeing the long distance girlfriend, how work was going for so and so, how so and so was dealing with......you get the idea. But he did mention what types of beer they all drank.
I'm beginning to think that men and women are wired differently.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Dreams
Once upon a time there was a little girl who dreamed of living in the suburbs. She dreamed of having four messy children and a husband who went to Victoria without her on the weekend to help run lifeguard competitions. She dreamed about driving a beat up purple minivan and changing exploded diapers in the middle of the night. She dreamed of yappy dogs, carpets that needed vacuuming and dirty dishes in the sink.
She didn't dream of marrying into wealth, living in a fancy home, or driving a convertible '69 Mustang. She didn't dream of big breasts, a flat stomach and no laugh lines. She most certainly didn't dream of 1.8 children and a maxed out RRSP fund. And she didn't dream of cosmopolitans at dinner parties seating 12 or caring what the labels said inside her clothes.
And this little girl was lucky. Because her dreams came true. And because her dreams came true, she was blessed with daily reminders to live in the moment, not to take things for granted, to love people not things. She was blessed with moments like a 2 year old discovering the antennae on slugs and the beauty a 6 year old sees in flowering weeds. She knew to be grateful for smelly 12 year old's socks because it reminded her that he was a boy as God made him. This girl knew to be grateful for a 16 year old wanting to talk at midnight. She knew those were some of the best times to talk.
Life wasn't easy. Life would have been so carefree if she had dreamed that different dream. But God knew her heart. He knew she couldn't grow and flourish and learn to see the beauty of His creation if she was driving a Mustang. He knew this little girl needed to stay grounded with vehicle repairs and oil stains on the carpet. He knew her needs as He created her. So He placed those dreams inside of her and stood by watching proudly as He allowed them to come true, one by one, just as the stars appear on a cloudless night.
And that little girl was happy. And grateful. And knew she was blessed. And thanked God everyday for allowing her dreams to come true.
Although she is dreaming that her next minivan is any colour but purple.
She didn't dream of marrying into wealth, living in a fancy home, or driving a convertible '69 Mustang. She didn't dream of big breasts, a flat stomach and no laugh lines. She most certainly didn't dream of 1.8 children and a maxed out RRSP fund. And she didn't dream of cosmopolitans at dinner parties seating 12 or caring what the labels said inside her clothes.
And this little girl was lucky. Because her dreams came true. And because her dreams came true, she was blessed with daily reminders to live in the moment, not to take things for granted, to love people not things. She was blessed with moments like a 2 year old discovering the antennae on slugs and the beauty a 6 year old sees in flowering weeds. She knew to be grateful for smelly 12 year old's socks because it reminded her that he was a boy as God made him. This girl knew to be grateful for a 16 year old wanting to talk at midnight. She knew those were some of the best times to talk.
Life wasn't easy. Life would have been so carefree if she had dreamed that different dream. But God knew her heart. He knew she couldn't grow and flourish and learn to see the beauty of His creation if she was driving a Mustang. He knew this little girl needed to stay grounded with vehicle repairs and oil stains on the carpet. He knew her needs as He created her. So He placed those dreams inside of her and stood by watching proudly as He allowed them to come true, one by one, just as the stars appear on a cloudless night.
And that little girl was happy. And grateful. And knew she was blessed. And thanked God everyday for allowing her dreams to come true.
Although she is dreaming that her next minivan is any colour but purple.
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