Learn Where You Can

As a parent, most would agree you have very little time for yourself. Sure you can get a few minutes here and there to work out, read a couple of pages of a book, or catch a movie, but for the most part we are carting kids to activities, working to pay for all these activities, and cleaning our homes. So self improvement, or further education is hard to come by. A couple of years ago, I picked up an autobiography of Frederick Douglass, a much admired African American orator, who single handedly changed the lives of blacks by risking his life to abolish slavery. I picked the book up several times, and couldn't get through it. Recently, Hogan my oldest son, had to choose a black person to write a paper on for Black History Month. After much debate, he chose (or was convinced) to choose Frederick Douglass. As a family, we took advantage of Hogan's project. We camped out by the fire nightly and read the autobiography, watched a movie on this incredible man and answered questions by our kids like "why did white people think they were better than blacks?" "how could such a horrible thing happen?" "why did people stand by and let this happen?" These questions, lead us to many other questions, and answers came from mom and dad and our kids. I guess what made this project more than just a project, was how much we learned as a family, how important it is to look at history and how important it is to talk about these subjects with our kids. I always have good intentions, every New Year, I say am going to take a course at the Mount, last month I took a course at home, it cost no money and our family is better and brighter for it.

Stop and Smell your Children

I recall my sister telling me before the birth of my first child that after you get through labor, and hold your child, you will be overcome with this unbelievable feeling of love. A feeling you probably could never imagine being that strong. Well, her labor was 2 hours, mine was 24, so I wasn't sure how I would feel towards my baby. I tell this story a lot because through all that pain, I awoke the morningafter, (having fed and changed his diaper several times through the night) overcome with feeling of love. I really had never experienced this type of emotion. I held him, fed him and smelled him as much as i could in those early years. I then had a second and did the same thing to my youngest, only because he was the baby he seemed to require more hugging and smelling than the eldest. Last week, the 11 year old came home with unexpected tears in his eyes, he had not made it through to next round of a contest involving french dictee. I was like don't worry about it, (knowing he has surpassed my academic career a couple of years ago), it didn't matter he wanted to achieve this goal. So mature in his opinions of late, so focused on his interests, but in that moment, he was my baby. I hugged him and then all of sudden I smelled him, he smelled like an adolescent. I hug my kids all the time, but I don't always soak it up. Sometimes I take them for granted. Sometimes I forget that one day they will be on their own. Sometimes I forget how fast they grow. I promise myself I will never stop smelling my kids even when they start smelling like teen spirit. Seriously though, take the time to tell them you love them, hug them and smell them, and then relish in your accomplishment!

The Olympic Hangover

I would say I am a pop culture junkie. I admit not proudly, that i love ET, have been known to watch more than one episode of TMZ, and when in a large Metropolitan American city,my husband says I see celebrities that are not really celebrities. I collect dolls from 50 and 60's cartoons and tv shows, and have been crowned queen of tv theme songs knowledge on more than one occassion. I guess why I bearing my chests is . . . it makes it easier to understand why i am addicted to the Olympics. I love the collection of HBC apparell, love the mascots, love the Opening Ceremonies and I love the quest for Gold. I am your typical canuck, I want to win but not at all costs, and i been heard to say 5th place is a good standing. My family is exhausted, we have been up every night, eyes glued to the TV, hugging at our first gold medal win and crying at the agony of defeat. I know there is poverty in our country and the money spent on an event like this does seem lavish, but I haven't been this proud of my country in years. I feel like I live in the most beautifulest, bestest country in the world, well that how my son put it. In a world where there is a lot of bad news, we have two weeks of a diversion. After that we will go back to the the many global problems. Today I am happy to be hungover, at least the Olympic kind.

It's 2010 and i need to get back to work

I never say this in jest because I know so many of my sons have friends diagnosed with "ADD". And I realize the challenges this imposes on learning, and I would be self diagnosing to say that I too have this challenge or opportunity. I was a good student, but it was always complicated but my inability to stay focused. In the middle of math class, I would be writing a play in my head or in chemistry class, I would be choreographing my next dance move. Sure you are saying this sounds like a creative person in the making. Well I would agree to a certain extent, but on black and white report cards it is hard to translate. I faced this challenge in university and the work place, but I always managed to find a way to make it work. So there is hope out there for those who find themselves struggling to stay focused. ENTREPRENEURSHIP! Yes, I have taken my inability to stay in way place and reclassified it as multi-tasking. I have surrounded myself with list makers and anal, I mean organized individuals. I am a doer, an idea gal, funny, big picture kinda operator and when on the right path can make some decent headway. Today I got up, wrestled with my new do, sent the kids off, walked my dog and returned to my office. WOW, I got so much down, no rhyme or reason to the order, a few walks around my desk, a couple of minutes in front of the television, a few songs were sung, but I got stuff down. You know, it's not the journey, it's the destination. I am back to work today. Tomorrow is another day, I will wrestle with that tomorrow. What is your self diagnosis?

Back in the Blogosphere

After a five months of vacation, and/or the mourning and celebrating of the life and loss of my dad. I am back to converse with myself, or anyone else who cares to chime in. This is my way of creating my own network of women or men who wish to discuss the issues of regular everyday life - the good and the bad without actually leaving you home. Sure it would be great if we could all get together, but you know,"we are all very busy".

Like every morning I wake up stressfully getting my kids and husband ready for their day - oh yeah let me remind you it is 2009. But the first hour in the morning I put on my bra and apron and journey back to the 1950's and do it all. By 8:30 I am back to the present,l and take my dog for a walk with some friends in the forest and solve as many of the world's problems as we can in 45 minutes. It is so great, I get a hike in, my dog gets a walk with her friends and we all get to blow off some steam. I hope into the car and feel great! I have exercised my mind and body and ready to start the day. What is your morning ritual and how do you start you day?

THE GREAT ESCAPE

I highly recommend the movie THE GREAT ESCAPE featuring Steve MacQueen. I brought this home in the dark days of winter, and my kids have watched it about 5 or 6 times since. But this blog is about a different type of GREAT ESCAPE, this weekend I went for girls weekend with some old friends that I used to work with at Metro Guide Publishing. Years ago, I worked for the magazine publisher in Halifax, and from that job I gained a wealth of experience, but more importantly some amazing friends. For the past 5 years or so, we have been venturing down to a beautiful country home along the French Shore. We look forward to it all year, and then when it arrives all of us run from homes, hop into our designated drives, and hightail it down there for a weekend of girl time. We do a little Frenchys' shopping, we eat like queens and we talk. We get updates on marriages, deaths and children. We laugh hysterically, and cry comforted by "our kind". It is chick weekend - we talk for almost 48 hours straight. The end comes too quick, and we leave eager to come back next year. We are all busy juggling our lives, but this short weekend provides us with an opportunity to remind us that we are something more than mothers, wives, sisters, caregivers, etc. - we are women! Hooray! Hear me roar! Sunday arrives and we return to our dens where our cubs await us. I walk in, and everyone tells me how much they missed me, and it is great! Shortly after this homecoming, I start to prepare supper, discover our dog has had diarrhea in the living room, discover ants in the kitchen and realize my son hasn't completed his school project yet. I am exhausted, and start to daydream about next years weekend - only 364 days to go! Why do I only do this once a year? What is your best girls' weekend?

Nothing to fear but fear itself

Truer words have never spoken, and I'm almost embarassed to use them in the context of my life, because I really have not had too much to fear. I recently heard Joe Schlesinger, the journalist, interviewed on CBC's The Current. He talked about his life, and how his Czech parents had to send him off to London at age 10 to flee the Nazis, and he never saw them again. Imagine the fear he must have felt, how did he overcome it, to move on to become a successful journalist and human being.

When I turned 40, I was diagnosed with health anxiety. I had recently miscarried, left my job to work at home, and moved into a new house. In September of my 40th year, I developed "real"pain in my abdomen, and an unbelievable anxiety which stemmed from my belief I was going to develop some fatal disease. I saw my GP, a physiotherapist, and therapist. Read a few books on depression, and talked a lot to family and friends. If I wasn't dying, I thought I was going crazy. I lost about a year in my life, but made it through to the other side. Simply put, I feared my own fears. In a conversation in the park with my husband, we talked about how I could get better, what were the tools I needed. Not knowing my son was listening (he was about 5 at the time) he said, "whoever you were before you got sick, be her again". Easier said than done, but the answer was that simple. I had no definite fears, they were ones I created. Weeks went passed and with the help of medication, my GP and family I moved forward.

I still get scared but instead of curling up and letting it control me, I try to face it head on. It works for me. Thanks Mr. Roosevelt for those great words of wisdom. How do you deal with fear?