Blue Christmas

It snowed! Yay!!!

I live in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Snow is our thing. We may not have winning sports teams or ocean views or swanky ski resorts but we have snow. That's our claim to fame. We are Winterpeg - except almost we weren't.

This year has been unseasonably warm. Like mow your lawn in December warm. That NEVER happens here but it did. It was halfway through December and we could still see grass! How depressing! How unWinnipegish of us!

I've not felt very Christmassy this year. I've just not been 'into' it. I blamed it on the lack of snow. I wasn't excited to decorate. I couldn't care less about Christmas baking. I felt blah about most of our traditions. In fact, I didn't even wear Christmas socks but once or twice. All of this I blamed on the warm weather and green grass. I blamed and I believed it to be true.

I thought that once it snowed proper I'd feel Christmas. Well, it snowed and I'm still in a funk. Like, seriously. Whatever, man. Christmas, you suck. We're breaking up.

I actually do feel bad for being so bah-humbug. I also felt very alone in my holiday grouchiness - and this made me feel worse about the whole thing - until I had a little chat with a friend yesterday. We were at our kids' Christmas concert rehearsal and she leaned over and whispered, "I feel bad even saying this but I'm so not into Christmas this year. I know Jesus should be enough to make me feel joyful but … "

I exhaled as if I'd been holding my breath for weeks because I kind of had been. I felt elated, sad and at home all at once. This dear, precious friend is walking out a tough journey in her life. She is moving through each challenge with grace, dignity and joy. Every day I am in awe of her. Every single day. And yet, here she is, not feeling the feeling and feeling bad for it.

"He is enough. And you are a human being with real deal stuff. You are joyful just not happy. And that's okay." I said those words as much to myself as I did to her because I suddenly realized they're true. It's not the snow that has me down. It's life. It's missing my dad. Missing my house. Missing my people. Missing who I was while I try to recognize who I am. It's feeling All the Feels that have piled up this year. It's being a grown up. It's missing and loneliness and heartache. It has little to do with snow and everything to do with being a human being with a human heart.

I left the practice feeling less alone but no more Christmassy. On the way home, Joyboy and I stopped at the store for a few things. As we hopped over snow banks he said, "I know you really like the snow but I think all this must be hard for people in wheelchairs. Y'know, like that really independent guy at church. Today must be hard for him to get around."

"I do like the snow but you're right.  I was also thinking about homeless people today. This weather is really hard on them, too."

"Sometimes it's hard to be happy at Christmas, isn't it?  Especially when you really think about all the stuff people have to live with," he sighed and squeezed my hand. And in that moment, it felt like Christmas. It felt like love and care and understanding and kindness. It felt like comfort. It felt like Jesus was near. In our sadness and concern for others, it finally felt a little like Christmas.

I never used to understand people who had a hard time at Christmas. I didn't get how the Magic of Christmas wasn't big enough for some people. But I get it now. I get how sometimes it takes more than a happy carol and a good snowfall to break through All the Stuff. I get how a joy-filled person can not be as happy and as excited as they once were. I get how Jesus is enough and yet All the Feels are still there. I get how peace can reign where heart ache still exists. I get it.

So, I'm a little blue this Christmas - and that's okay. I will still laugh and make memories. I will still celebrate and cherish. I will still participate in our traditions and love all the moments with those I love. I will keep Christmas despite all of the other stuff. And I will not feel bad about all the other stuff - because Jesus is in that, too.

I will feel All the Feels because He is feeling those Feels with me. He does not abandon me or cast me aside in my heavy-heartedness. He holds me tight. So tight that I can feel His heartbeat next to mine. So close that His breath fills my lungs. So gently that my broken heart finally feels safe. So securely that I rest, the deep, healing rest of one who is well loved. For I am well loved this blue Christmas … as are you, Dear One!

"I've never quite loving you and I never will!"
~God, Jeremiah 31:3 (The Message)

In Their Natural Habitat

"I think we can! I think we can! I think we can!"

This has been our mantra for the past couple of weeks. We are in the slow climb to the last day of school (9 days, but who's counting?). We've been in survival mode. Git 'er done, eye on the prize, push through the pain mentality. But as we've slogged through portfolios, crammed for tests and scrambled to finish up projects we also enjoyed a few rare moments of fun and organized chaos in the form of field trips.

Mr. Awesome and I both have been able to attend a couple of field trips during the last few week and while we had moments of terror (like when I was the only adult sitting at the back of the school bus for a two hour ride) for the most part our trip pin' days were fun and educational. Sure, we learned more about our local government, fossil discovery in our province and just how many windows to open on a school bus to combat preteen musk without creating a hurricane force wind tunnel as you drive down the highway but mostly we learned about our kids and how they interact with their world. And some of the findings surprised us.

They aren't extroverts. They aren't exactly introverts either but seriously, I was a little surprised to see that all three of The Wee Ones were more reserved than I expected. Crafty is always more cautious and watchful in new situations but I was genuinely shocked to see that Mischief reacted exactly the same way as his sister. He is usually our go-getter but field trip day, parent day and track day all saw my Wee Wild Child hang back a bit and let others take the lead. He still had fun and was part of the group but he was no longer the kid out front - and that's okay.

They're okay with flying solo. All three Wee Ones have some really great friends but all three of them are fine with doing their own thing alone if no one else wants to join them. Sometimes, their are disappointed that their friends aren't with them but that doesn't stop them from participating in something they are really interested in even if no one else is. I also noticed that all three of them crave alone time even when they are in a crowd. They eventually rejoin the group but they each seemed to need a time out during the busyness of the day.

They ask great questions. This wasn't a big shocker for me when it came to observing Dude. His mind is always going and he's always asking questions - and I'm usually not smart enough to answer most of the questions he asks. I was more surprised by Crafty and Mischief. They are smart cookies, too, so I wasn't surprised that they had thoughts. What surprised me was Crafty's boldness to ask questions to strangers in a group setting and the depth of though Mischief put into his questions. It seems that although Mischief is in constant motion he is, in fact, taking in most of what he hears and Crafty has figured out how to let her curiosity win over her anxiety.

They are growing at warp speed. I often think of home as their natural habitat but that's not really the case. These Wee Ones spend most of their wakeful hours out in the world, with teachers and peers. Most of their learning and maturing happens out of sight from us and this is so evident when we have the opportunity to observe them in their natural habitat. They are not little anymore. They don't need us to navigate the world, step by step, for them. They are figuring things out pretty well on their own. They are stronger, smarter, more thoughtful, more courageous than I give them credit for. They are not babies - they are Wee People who have carved out their own place in their world. It's really remarkable to witness. And it's happening so fast!

They still want us. Whether it was a wink across the room, a seat saved on the bus or a wee sticky hand slipping into mine, my kids all let us know that they still want us around. While some of the other kids didn't want to be in their parents' group, didn't want to sit with them on the bus or didn't want them taking pictures of them together at the events all three of my kids loved every minute of having us present. They were happy to walk with us during the tours and looked forward to us joining them and their friends for lunch. They wanted to stand next to us, hold our hands and give us hugs throughout the day. They may not need us but they want us - and that makes my heart sing!

This school year has flown but and our kids have grown by leaps and bounds. I'm proud of them for persevering, for being brave and for being teachable. I'm in awe of the people they are becoming. As I watch them grow from year to year, and learn a little more about them, its as though I am slowly unwrapping a precious, and much anticipated, gift. Maybe because I am. As much as I'd like to tear of the wrappings and see the fullness of this precious gift, I also want to savour this time. Savour the anticipation, the discovery, the quiet moments of becoming. Time rushes on fast enough on its own and though I can do nothing to stop it, I can be purposeful in enjoying each second that passes. I can soak in the newness of each day. I can peacefully observe these Wee Ones as they move through the world and make it their own.

And I can be grateful
.

Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.” 
― Anne Frank

8 Kinds of Mischief

Yesterday we celebrated Mischief's 8th birthday.

Eight years.

Blink.

They're gone.

Wow!

As I decorated the kitchen on Monday night for the Big Birthday Breakfast Celebration I started thinking about Mischief and the awesome kid he is. His wit, spunk and charm amaze me. I'm in awe of his confidence and courage. His sense of humour, compassionate heart and creative mind are things to behold! I was so overwhelmed by the gift he is that I sat down right there and wrote a Top 8 things we love about Mischief!

8. His fantastic smile.

        From the first time this little blue eyed heart breaker crinkled up his nose and flashed his crooked smile at me I was hooked. He was the happiest of our three kids, always content to roll around the floor or jump around in his exersaucer and it took no effort at all to make him laugh. As he grew he realized that one quick flash of his baby pearly whites was all it would take for a get out of jail free card! Even now, its tough to be strict with him when he turns on that smile!

7. His great big caring heart.
          If ever a kid was born with an extra measure of compassion and empathy its him! Mischief is generous, sensitive and concerned about the happiness of others. He is the king of compromise and almost always puts the needs of others first. He loves to help out whenever and wherever he can ... sometimes to a fault! Just ask my mom about how many times Mischief has 'helped' by rearranging things in her house!

6. His wicked good sense of humour.
          Mischief can tell a joke and take a joke. He's a little self deprecating and he can spin a good tale. Often times, he keeps us entertained at the dinner table with stories about his day ... complete with several alternate endings that would make the story funnier, sadder or scarier. He's a hoot!

5. His endlessly curious mind.
          Mischief's mind never stops! He is constantly trying to figure out the meaning of songs, stories, people's actions ... of life. He wants to understand everything. In fact, he often reminds me of that movie Short Circuit; Number 5 needs more input!

4. His outstanding imagination.
          Whether he's spinning a tale, recreating a favourite scene from a movie or playing in his room he always has the most elaborate costumes, sets and back stories. He is a fantastic little actor and a wee creative genius. I love watching his wheels turn as he works his creative magic!

3. His flip-floppy amazing stunts.
          Although his antics have been known to cause near heart failure in me, I am in awe of how agile, fearless and flexible he is! He loves to test the limits of his physical strength and gravity and just like a cat, he always lands on his feet  - well, almost!

2. His wild, crazy, boundless love.
          This kid is a lover, not a fighter (usually). He is a faithful friend, a loving sibling and a precious heart beauty. He is the master of sneak attack hugs, sweet baby kisses and monster cuddles. He has no problems laying a little login' on a person who needs it and it makes his heart sing when its reciprocated. He loves like he lives, boundlessly, fearlessly.

1. Our very favourite thing about Mischief ...

He's ours!


Happy Birthday, Little Buddy! 

• 
  

• It's the merry-hearted boys that make the best men! - Irish proverb

Let's Get Foxy

Its the most wonderful time of the year!

I love fall. I love back to school and all the shiny new school supplies. I love the explosion of colour in nature. I love sunny afternoons and cool evenings. I love sweaters and boots and hand knit mittens. I love fall!

One of my very favourite things about fall in Canada is the Terry Fox run. I remember starting grade one and looking forward to my first Terry Fox run at school. I had spent years being envious of my cousin and the poster she had that held all the participation stickers she had collected for running each year with her classmates; I was finally going to run, I was finally going to have my own collection of stickers!

And run I did. Each year of my elementary school career I collected change, ran and carefully hid my participation sticker away, in the back of my Bible with all the stickers I received for knowing my memory verse. Stickers, The Bible and Terry Fox.

Now, each year I watch the excitement build in my own kids as they plan for the run. Last night, Mischief laid out his 'running clothes' and labelled his water bottle. He scavenged around the house, looking for change and even dipped his hand into his piggy bank.

"It's for the cure," he declared as he dropped his sacred pennies and dimes into a Ziploc bag.

For the cure.

For those who may not be familiar with Terry Fox, he was a young man who had his leg amputated because of a cancerous tumour and less than two years later he decided to run across Canada to raise awareness and money for a cure. That was in 1979, now more than 30 years later each September kids across our country raise money and learn about hope and a real life hero. They learn that you can  impact the world by using what you have, where you are, if only you dream and believe. They learn to have compassion and to put feet to that compassion.

Clearly, Terry Fox did more than raise awareness for cancer research, though; he was a pioneer in finding a cure for something else, too. He addressed a societal woe by just being the person he was created to be. Terry used his athleticism, charisma and competitive spirit to inspire a nation.  Terry called us to look beyond what's happening in our own little world and open our eyes to what is happening in the great big world. And once we see, we must act. Terry started a cure for complacency and self focus and just as he hoped, others have picked up where he left off. Others have continued to run.

I love seeing people look outward and initiate change. I love it when people use this one life to make a difference in their circle of influence. People like Craig Kielburger, Hannah Taylor and Robb Nash saw a need and followed their hearts, bringing life and change and hope. They are running in Terry's footsteps.

Terry Fox believed in miracles. He believed in community. He believed in cooperation. He believed that if we all came together we could change lives. Terry believed that his message was bigger than himself. He believed that if enough people caught on a real difference could be made. Terry believed in the future. He believed in us.

I love this time of the year and I love Terry Fox!

Even if I don't finish, we need others to continue. It's got to keep going without me!
~Terry Fox

Catching the Dream

Five rings. One red maple life. Indescribable national pride. It's the Olympics and we are so proud to be Canadian!

The Olympics are a big deal in this random house. The winter Olympics are our favorite but we are just as proud of our summer athletes. All five of us gather around the TV to cheer on our countrymen in very nearly every event imaginable. Sports we had no clue about a week ago have suddenly become of great importance to us. We hush each other during weightlifting, judo and rowing. We wait, breathless, during the men's medley, 100 butterfly and 4 x 100 relay and we can't wait for our favorite events, namely gymnastics and diving. We have caught the spirit.

The boys in particular have been bit by the Olympic bug. Dude has always wanted to be an Olympic diver and nothing has changed with that dream. Mischief is just like me, easily inspired. During rowing he wants to row, during swimming he wants to swim and during gymnastics he wants to be a gymnast. In between events the boys run outside to try out their skills at the different events and to coach and cheer each other on. They dream of standing on the podium and hearing O Canada play as the maple leaf is lifted high. They dream of inspiring other kids. They dream of being part of the team that binds the country together every four years.

And my kids are not the only wee ones who have the Olympic itch.

Today, while at the beach, I saw a nine year old girl mark out a path in the sand, take her mark and run to an imagined vault. I could see her soar through the air in her mind's eye and land her vault with perfection. My own kids, along with their cousins, swam Olympic races and invented their own events, including under water handstands and the tunnel swim.

It has been awesome to see the domino effect of The Dream. It has less to do with the Olympics and more to do with people witnessing others achieve their dreams. We all have had dreams for our lives; for some of us we are still dreaming, others are making the dream a reality and still others have lost hope in their dreams.  That's the poison of life, to lose hope in the dream, to stop dreaming.

Life happens, plans change and sometimes unexpected things happen. All of this can conspire to fill us with doubt and despair. All of this can steal our dreams but it doesn't have to be that way.

The Canadian coverage of the Olympics include segments called The Difference Makers. It's the stories of different althetes and the people who made their dreams a reality. Many of these stories have elements of disappointment and heartache. Athletes have suffered injuries that could have forced them to abandon their dreams, some have lost parents and others have been victims of abuse and yet all of them continued on. All of them adjusted their plans but never took their eyes off their goals. All of them allowed others to lend hope to their dreams. All of them are living the dream.

Watching these hope filled stories makes me wonder, what's my 'Olympic' dream? What's the secret plan of my heart and am I staying the course or have I allowed life to steal my hope, my focus? Am I doing what it takes to live the dream?

Are you?

What the dream of your heart? What's the thing you want most for your life, for your family? Has life's circumstances stolen your hope? Does the dream seem impossible? Or worse, have you forgotten how to dream?

There ate gifts, talents and hopes that have been woven into each one of us. There is a greatness that lies within each of us to live a huge life of purpose and fulfillment. There is a destiny that we are each meant to discover and live out and the secret dream of your heart is a key piece to achieving that destiny.

If life has become too big, too busy, too stressful, too much to bear take heart. It's not too late to dream. It's not too late to live the life you were meant to live. It's not too late to draw your path in the sand, to take a deep breath and to run to your destiny with all your might.

Dream.

Dream.

Dream.

Live.

Never underestimate the power of dreams and the influence of the human spirit. We are all the same in this notion: The potential for greatness lives in each of us.
~Wilma Rudolph, Olympian

Things that make you go ???

Dear Children,

In the 12 years that I have been a mother there have been many moments that have left me awestruck, overwhelmed and weeping at the wonder of you. I have laughed til I cried on countless occasions and I have also wept in sadness from time to time. There have also been times that have left me questioning my sanity, YOUR sanity and the basic order of life ... this week has been one of those weeks.

This week, moment by moment, I have wondered how your little, still developing brains works. I have marvelled at what the thought process must be inside that tiny melon to bring you to the incomprehensible decisions you make.

Why, why, why did you think wearing your jacket while it was still on the hanger, hanging in your closet, was a good idea?

Why, why, why did you think a bungee jump from the stair to the couch using a skipping rope would be successful?

Why, why, why did a jam and lettuce sandwich sound appealing?

Why, why, why did you think the dog needed to try on your brother's jacket?

Why, why, why did you think my Sacred Chair would be a good launching pad for you stunts? And didn't you notice the proximity of the coffee table to said Sacred Chair?

Why, why, why did you feel compelled to created a tsunami in the bathtub that soaked half the bathroom?

Why, why, why did you have to recreate the battle of Mordor with Lego in the family room and why for the love of all that is good and holy could you not clean up the carnage before I made a barefoot discovery of the battle scene?

Why, why, why did you think setting off your fizzy popper in the kitchen was a good idea?

And finally ....

Why, why, why do you look and me with those twinkly eyes and funny little smiles that make me forget the mayhem and hug you and love you to bits instead?

Your forever and always,

Mom

Did you know that childhood is the only time in our lives when insanity is not only permitted to us, but expected?
~Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli's Mandolin

The One Who Gets Its

A few weeks ago I was invited to an very special event; the assembly hosted by Mischief's grade two class. Each grade takes a turn hosting an assembly during the school year and May was Mischief's month. He was so excited he could barely function the morning of the big day; he couldn't wait to share with us the special songs and poems his class had prepared. I wouldn't have missed it for the world ... not even for a chemo treatment.

Turns our the big assembly was the afternoon of a treatment. Bad timing. And to make matters worse my treatment was delayed by about an hour, making the possibility of attending the assembly very dicey.

I tried to explain my predicament to the doctor but he didn't really get it. He just kept telling me that my son would understand and my health has to come first. In theory that made sense but in reality I knew that two little blue eyes would be scanning the crowd and two little shoulders would slump when he realised we weren't there. So I tried to get through to the nurses.

Bingo!

The nurse, a mom, totally 'got it' and she hustled to get the meds in and let me skip out on the last ten minutes of my hydration so I could zip to the school in time. I was able to sneak into the gym just as my little Mischief took to the stage and just as I thought his baby Blues scanned the crowd, looking for us. At first he didn't see us and he slumped a little until his pal spotted us near the back of the crowd and pointed us out to Mischief. Instantly he jumped up, waved and winked. And that made my hurried, desperate day worth it.

As the assembly progressed, Mischief sang, recited poems and danced until his pants were saggy, all the while beaming at us from the second riser. I wouldn't have missed this for the world!

As we filed out of the gym after the program was over, many of my friends who knew it was a treatment day couldn't believe that I was there. I got a ton of comments about how I should be at home and how my kids would understand and forgive me and how there will always be another assembly to attend. After hearing about half a dozen comments like that, I ducked out to the van, a little dejected. How could no one get why I was there?!

A few minutes later, Mischief and Crafty came running out of the school and hopped into the van.

"Mom, I was so afraid you wouldn't be there! Thanks so much for coming! I liked seeing your face smiling at my face!" Mischief said as he gave me a huge hug and a sloppy kiss.

Well, okay ... someone got why I was there!

Here's the last song that Mischief and his pals sang at the assembly ... it lifted my spirits, made me laugh and reminded me to believe in myself, be true to myself and to celebrate the things that make me me, even if no one seems to 'get it' ... hope it does the same for you!

If God had wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise. ~Johann von Goethe

Its the Place to Be

Today is the 100th day of school so naturally Mischief and his classmates were invited to dress like 100 year olds to celebrate the day. As I spent a few quick minutes this morning hiking up his beige pants to show off his white tube socks, tying his tie, baby powdering his hair and zipping his cardigan to make him senior-home ready for the day. When we were done he looked in the mirror and declared, "Wow, time does fly! I am a pretty cool old dude!"

After he explained to me the Circle of Life ("We are born bald, with no teeth and can't walk and we die old, bald, with no teeth and can't walk. Its just life ... in a circle") we hustled him off to school. About an hour later I received an email from his teacher about an encounter another teacher had with him earlier in the morning ...

"So I just met Mischief in the hall walking VERY slowly for a 100 year old man!  I told him I would give you a call and tell you it might take him a while to get to the classroom.  He replied.  “Don’t bother. She’s pretty old.  She’ll likely be dead by the time I get there.”  ! ha!"

From an art project on Day 50

Along with that funny little anecdote was a picture of Mischief, some of his centenarian pals and his teacher ... dressed like an old man! I have a stack of pictures of Mischief with his classmates from the last year and a half. They dressed like they were from the 1950s for the 50th day of school, they celebrated Dr. Suess' birthday by wearing their clothes backwards, they built an igloo out of milk jugs for I love to Read Month and on Tuesday they had a heart shaped pancake breakfast for Valentine's Day. Mrs. Kyle's class is the place to be!

When you walk into her classroom there is a sense of excitement and comfort. There is a carpet in front of the smart board and there's a reading nook with comfy cushions and couches in the corner. The students are encouraged to work where they feel most comfortable and inspired ... as long as they work. The walls are covered with the usual educational tools but there's also posters about respect, kindness and friendship. Art work and words of encouragement cover every spare inch of wall space.

I have volunteered in this classroom a number of times (she does an exceptional job of inviting parents to participate at every opportunity) and I have never heard her loose her cool or raise her voice in anger. The kids aren't angels; they are a group of very energetic, quirky, funny seven and eight year olds but instead of being afraid of the chaos she embraces it, joins in and sets the tone for the classroom. She is funny, silly and creative with the kids and they love and respect her for it.

She celebrates each of her students as individuals in a million little ways every day as well as giving each of them the opportunity to be the classroom star for a week. She finds ways to encourage and esteem the kids for their talents and accomplishments and she empowers them to make better choices and make amends when they have made a bad decision. She honors the people they are and equips them to continue to grow as life long learners and respectful citizens of the world. She considers, not only who they are now but who they are becoming.

Every one moves to their own rhythm, especially teachers. They each have their own style and technique to running their classroom but I think schools would be the place to be if more teachers took a page from Mrs. Kyle's guide to classroom management. She finds a reason to celebrate everyday. She shows up excited to teach, inspiring her students to be excited to learn. I often joke that Mischief is being taught by the missing Disney Princess but its kind of true ... and I'm thankful for it!

Excitement and passion are contagious, we see it every day. Mischief struggles with reading a little and with following the rules ... alot. He often finds himself in hot water at recess and lunch time. School could easily be a downer for this kid, but its not. He loves learning, loves going to school. He can't wait to see what Mrs. Kyle has planned each day and he can't wait to show us what he's learned at the end of each day. He is excited about school because she is excited about school.

Mrs. Kyle has made school the place to be!

I hope his enthusiasm for school and for learning stays with him for the rest of his life. I hope these two years with this exceptional teacher will be just the beginning of his excitement for education. And I hope that Mrs. Kyle's creativity, charisma and compassion for her students never wanes. She is a treasure to our kids, our community ... we are so blessed to have her!

Thank you, Mrs. Kyle!

One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child. ~Carl Jung

The Plight of a Pee-Wee

 ... similar to The Flight of the Bumble Bee just shorter.

Ever since Mischief obtained the power of speech he has lamented his small stature. He has whined, cried, raged and bemoaned being dwarfed by younger pals, counted as one of the shortest kids in his class and by far the smallest person in the family. Apparently, it is one of the greatest injustices in life, being wee.

I wouldn't know.

My school memories include standing on the highest choir riser, being positioned at the back center of the class pictures and being sent to the end of the 'by height' line. I was always the tallest girl in the class and on a few occasions the tallest kid in the class, period. I was 5'9" by the time I entered the eighth grade. I felt like a giant, a giraffe, a freak. I stood inches taller than most of my friends, a full 7 inches taller than my best friend. I was a monument to all that is dorky and awkward in Teenagerdom.

It wasn't until my late teen years, when more friends hit their growth spurts that I stood out less and was able to stand tall more. So when I hear my wee, sweet boy complain about being the smallest I don't get it. Small things are cute, cuddly and lovable. Small people can squish in to tight places, don't ever have trouble finding pants long enough and can blend in to a crowd. I think being small would be awesome; and I told Mischief so.

Evidently, I couldn't be more wrong. Small people get patted on the head, picked up and moved against their will, can't reach things on high shelves, always have to sit in the front for class pictures, can't see over taller people at the movies, can't sit in a chair and have their feet touch the floor, get in trouble more than tall people (namely for climbing things), get stuck standing with girls in the choir, have to roll up their pants and stand on their tip-toes a lot. Small people get picked last for basketball (unless they're really fast), have to stand closer to the other guy in a fight (because their arms are shorter) and can't see over the counter at 7-11 (so their brother scoops the change before they even know its there).

Being small sucks!

After hearing Mischief's looong list of complaints we tried to encourage him. We told him that he's only seven and he's the perfect height for a 7 year old. We told him that Mr. Awesome was wee until he was 16 years old and then he had a major growth spurt. We told him that if he fills his body with good fuel (fruit and veg instead of sugar and coffee) that his body will have everything it needs to grow. And we told him that most of all, he has to be patient and that God made his spectacular ... just the way he is.

A few days later we were driving to church and Crafty was singing a song she had learned in Sunday School.

"Read your Bible and pray everyday, pray everyday, pray everyday. Read your Bible and pray everyday and you'll grow, grow, grow!"

"That's the problem!" Mischief exclaimed.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"The reason why I'm so small is that I pray every day but I forget to read my Bible ... I gotta remember to read that thing so I'll grow faster!" He beamed.

Crafty and I looked at each other and chuckled.

"Oh man!" Mischief groaned. "I just remembered, I don't really know how to read too good. I'm gonna be stuck this small forever!"

Sadly, even though he may not realize it now, I know that Mischief won't stay wee forever. I look at Dude, nearly 12 years old, and marvel at the young man he is becoming. When did that roly-poly baby turn into this tall, lean preteen?  And Crafty, the shadow of my chatty, quirky toddler is disappearing in the light of this beautiful, witty young lady whose laughter fills our home and my heart. Even Wee Mischief, that sweet little thumb sucking baby has morphed into this brave, storytelling ball of action. What happened to all those years between now and then? Can I pause today, this day, this moment, to savour their childhood a little longer?

Can I? I know I can't. I can't even stop Dude for wishing away his childhood so that he can become the great scientist that he knows he is destined to be or slow Crafty down as she weaves a cocoon around her little caterpillar self and prepares for the butterfly she can't help but become. And I definitely can't convince Mischief to revel in his wee-ness, to stay a boy child for as long as possible and that being bigger isn't all that its cracked up to be. I can't.

All I can do is hold them, hug them, smell them, savor them. All I can do is make memories, hold each wonderful moment in my heart and celebrate the children they are and the full grown, big people they will inevitably become.

We've had bad luck with our kids - they've all grown up. ~Christopher Morley



Star of the Week

Last night, just before bed and after a crazy weekend of organising a craft and bake sale at Dude's school, Mischief brings me his school folder and announces that he's star of the week ... TOMORROW! Well, tomorrow is today and with a bunch of scrambling and rummaging we were able to pull everything together to fill his folder for the week. He trotted off to school this morning, happy as can be, ready for the week to be all about him.

As I was filling out the poster with him, listing his favourite books and movies, all the things he's super good at and what makes him the spectacular kid he is, I was thinking how nice it would be if everyone had a Star of the Week poster about themselves. What a fantastic visual reminder that things aren't as bad as they seem and that you are, in fact, kind of fantastic.

I find that even as a grown up fitting in can be kind of tough. There's always the urge to compare yourself, your situation with the next person. Are my clothes as nice? Do we make as much money? Do our kids have the same kind of stuff their kids have?  It all can become overwhelming and a little depressing if we let it go on.

The thing is, we're all different and the only way to be okay with that is to celebrate our own uniqueness, to be the Star of our own week, our own life. I have spent a lot of time in my life comparing myself to others and feeling like I don't measure up. I felt worthless for a long time and then I remembered the truth, I'm not meant to be just like anyone else. I am meant to be different, unique. I am meant to be me and that is all kinds of magnificent.

If you are feeling kind of lousy, a little 'less than' make your own Star of the Week poster. Remind yourself that you are awesome and smart and beautiful and talented and fantastic just as you are. When your poster is done, pour yourself a cup of coffeejuice, sit back, admire your own handiwork and soak in your own awesomeness for a bit. You deserve it!

You know ... you really are fantastic.
~Mrs. Fox, The Fantastic Mr. Fox

The Catch-Phrase Kid

I think I have been watching too much TV lately. I have developed a paranoia of drowning in stuff, of becoming a hoarder. For the past couple of weeks I have been Mean Mom. Y'know the one. She's the mom who makes you run and hide when you hear her coming because she always has a list of jobs to do. She's the one you never want to catch you resting, playing or watching TV and you CERTAINLY never whine about being bored to because she'll make you clean under your bed, sort through the dress up clothes or tidy your closet. She's the one you dread and I am Her.

The kids have had several Fridays off in a row and each Friday I have had a new task for them to do above and beyond their regular chores. They have sorted through books, games, toys and clothes. They have tossed broken things and boxed things they've out grown. They have pulled out couches, crawled under beds and even crawled into the dark and creepy corners of the storage bins to discover hidden treasures and even more hidden junk.

Now what? My laundry room is piled high with boxes of things that are good but out grown that I need to sort. Somehow me making them work creates more work for me! Not fair!!!

As I was whining about how unfair it is that I have so much extra work to do now Mischief saunters up the the laundry room door, leans against the door jam and rolls his lollipop around in his mouth for a minute while he watches me move boxes and sort through the mountain of things blocking my office door. After hearing me grumble for a minute or so he pops the sucker out of his mouth and says, "Be careful what you wish for."

"What?"

"Like you say sometimes, you wished for us to clean our rooms and now your laundry room is a mess ... be careful what you wish for."

"Listen Smarty-Pants," I laugh.

"Nope," he interrupts, holding up a pudgy little hand, "You can't always get what you want, life isn't fair and be careful what you wish for. That's it." He slides his lollipop back into his mouth, shrugs, shakes his head and walks away.

... and I cleaned the laundry room. Be careful what you wish for, Mean Mom.

Children are unpredictable. You never know what inconsistency they're going to catch you in next. ~Franklin P. Jones

7 Years of Mischief

This past weekend as we celebrated Mischief's birthday (at the corn maze, with all his pals, for the third year in a row!) I did what all parents do on their kids' birthdays, I thought back to the infant, baby, toddler and little dude he was and looked at the wee man he is now. I also thought about the grown up man he will become. I thought about all he is and all he brings to my life and I asked myself, what did I do to deserve him?

Supposedly, if you break a mirror it means you'll have seven years of bad luck. I've had seven years of Mischief, what did I do to deserve that?

What did I do to deserve seven years of squishy hugs, bed time cuddles and mooshy kisses? What did I do to deserve seven years of corny jokes, heart stopping stunts and long winding stories? What did I do to deserve seven years of contagious laughter, smiles that can simultaneously melt your heart and brighten your day and random words of childhood wisdom? What ever did I do to deserve all this?

Mischief and I have been at odds a lot lately and more than once I have thought about a poem by Shel Silverstein that I enjoyed as a kid. As a mom I want to keep him safe, whole and relatively clean but as a kid he wants to learn, explore and experience everything he can. These opposing goals pit us against each other sometimes and I tend to think that he is wrong and that he needs to just listen and obey. Often times he does need to do that, but sometimes I need to let him be the person he is destined to be. I need to let go, buy some more band aids and a stronger laundry detergent and let him explore and experience.

Here's the poem ...

 Ma and God

God gave us fingers–Ma says, “Use your fork.”

God gave us voices–Ma says, “Don’t scream.”

Ma says eat broccoli, cereal and carrots.

But God gave us tasteys for maple ice cream.

God gave us fingers–Ma says, “Use your hanky.”

God gave us puddles–Ma says, “Don’t splash.”

Ma says, “Be quiet, your father is sleeping.”

But God gave us garbage can covers to crash.

God gave us fingers–Ma says, “Put your gloves on.”

God gave us raindrops–Ma says, “Don’t get wet.”

Ma says be careful, and don’t get too near to

Those strange lovely dogs that God gave us to pet.

God gave us fingers–Ma says, “Go wash ‘em.”

But God gave us coal bins and nice dirty bodies.

And I ain’t too smart, but there’s one thing for certain–

Either Ma’s wrong or else God is.

Maybe Ma is wrong ... just a little.

Just Like Dad

Mischief has been driving me a little nutty lately. He has been climbing everything, making some less than stellar choices in his behaviour and attitude and whining about 'just wanting to have fun'. Mr. Awesome and I have tried all sorts of things to try to curb this mayhem but nothing has worked so far.

After a series of notes from school and conversations with his teacher as well as constantly refereeing fights with between him and the other kids I was becoming unglued. I was exhausted and more frustrated than I can ever remember being with this kid. So, when I walked into the family room just as he was about to execute a near kamikaze stunt involving the stairs, the couch, ottoman, a number of blankets and towels and the dog I knew I had a choice to make. I could lock him in the dog kennel, tie him to a chair or run away from home.

Realizing that none of those were really viable options, I stuck the kid in the bath tub and gave myself a time out. As I stood outside the bathroom door, I listened to him play and sing in the tub. He was everything sweet and calm and adorable, as he soaked in the bubbles. When he was sufficiently wrinkled, I pulled him out of the tub, toweled him off and sent him to his room to get jammied. Maybe all he needed was a little alone time to soak and relax, I told myself, pleased with the new, calm Mischief.

I hadn't even finished draining the tub and putting the bath toys away before I heard Crafty yelling, followed by Mischief's cackles, coming from the basement. Oh good grief! I diffused the situation and quickly whisked Mischief off to bed, his day was done, even if he wasn't!  As I tucked him into bed, he wrapped his little arms around me and apologized for being a handful. I nuzzled into his freshly washed neck and sighed.

Dear God, help me with this kid! I prayed silently and as if he heard me, Mischief pulled back, placed his little hands on my cheeks and looked me straight in the eye and said, "Its okay mom. I'll grow up and be just like Dad, everything will be fine."

I kissed his forehead, told him I loved him and left the room. Just like Dad, eh? Not sure whether that made me feel better or worse in the moment, to tell you the truth!

I returned to my room and thought about all that Mischief is and how much he is already like his dad. Although he climbs and jumps and runs through life like a loon, he is also funny, witty, smart, caring and noble. He has a huge heart, loves fiercely and usually has the best of intentions. He is supremely confident, fearless and courageous. He is everything that is good and sweet ... he is already just like his dad, and that's not so bad, after all.

What is genius? - It is the power to be a boy again at will.

~James Matthew Barrie

A Near-Life Experience

I write fiction. I write this blog and book reviews but I also write fiction and in my genre of choice it is important to keep the happenings believable so the reader will relate to the characters. If I were to write the last two weeks of my life into a story line it would never see the bright side of an editor's desk because it would be completely unbelievable. The reader would balk at the over-the-top circumstances, drama and conflict and therefore would find the characters boring, this story would be completely unsellable.

But as they say truth is stranger than fiction.

I can't share everything that has happened because I am still processing some things, figuring out others and there are a few things that are not mine to tell but I can tell you this ... vacation isn't always as rejuvenating as they say. When I signed off nearly two weeks ago I expected to return to my keyboard refreshed, refocused and ready to go. I am none of those things.

Our vacation plans never even got out of the gate due to a serious illness in my uncle's family (it was his cabin we were going to). He insisted that we go to the cabin without him anyway, so instead of 13+ people for the weekend we arrived at the cabin as a group of seven.

The first two days there went off without a hitch except for when I sprained my wrist and when Mischief's ankles got sliced when he got tangled up in the dog chain. Except for that, we had a great time those first couple of days. By noon on the third day my uncle and cousin arrived with a few quads. The plan was to take the kids for a ride and then we'd have a BBQ and bonfire before my uncle headed back into town. We didn't make it past the quad ride.

My dad momentarily lost control of the quad he was driving (with Mischief on the back). Mischief was thrown clear of the quad and tumbled into a bush. My dad ended up under the quad on top of a tree stump and boulders. Mr. Awesome took my parents and Mischief to the hospital (the same hospital I had been at earlier that morning with my wrist injury) immediately and I followed later with my uncle.

Mischief was cleared immediately; nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises. My dad, after a long 24 hours of x-rays, scans, back brace, ambulance rides and two hospitals, learned that he had broken his collarbone and torn some ligaments in his neck in addition to the scraps and bruises that were covering much of his torso. All things considered we feel pretty lucky that both quadders walked away from the accident.

There are other things going on, things I can't write about now but I promise I will sometime soon. I just need more time to get more information, process and figure things out. What I do know for sure is that life is a precious, fleeting thing. That even though it sounds so cliche, we really must savour every moment, live the life we want to live and not just the life we settle for. We need to do what it takes to make our dreams a reality, we need to make memories with those who are precious to us and we need to be grateful for each day we have. We never know when life will take a turn and suddenly we are out of chances, out of time, to do the things we really want to do and be the person we really want to be.

I read a quote a while ago that kicked my procrastinating self in the behind. Before the accident and everything that surrounded it I realised that I need to live today and not wait for everything to begin tomorrow. I need to do the things that are important to me now instead of waiting for the right circumstances or a more convenient time. My life won't be anything if I just sit around waiting for something to happen to me. I need to start moving, start making things happen. What's that saying? You can't steer a parked car.

Anyway, I'm not dying and I didn't have a near death experience but I don't want to settle for a near life experience either. Do you?

A year from now you may have wished you started today.
~Karen Lamb

Running Free and Flipping Out

Last week when we were at the park another mom was watching Mischief run and flip and jump from play structure to play structure. She could not get over how fearless he was and commented that she might be looking at the next Freerunning Superstar.

I had heard of free running before but I wasn't exactly sure what it was so I went home and googled. What I found astonished and terrified me. These crazy kids jumped from building to building, doing back flips, inverted spirals and handstands. They jumped from buildings to cars from statures to stairs, down railings, over benches and bike racks ... it was absolutely incredible what they were capable of.

I found several videos that featured one guy named Ryan Doyle. He has won many competitions and now runs a business that trains aspiring urban artists. I like how he has trained in martial arts, gymnastics and break dancing. He is deliberate and calculated in his movements and although he suffered a traumatic injury a number of years ago he kept going. Ryan Doyle got better, stronger and more focused in his art. I also like how he clearly does not take himself too seriously.

Here's a video of Ryan Doyle Free Running at a park. What I like about this video is that it includes the outtakes because not even the professionals are perfect!

I don't know if Mischief will grow up to be a Free runner, stuntman or guinea pig hunter but whatever he does I know he will do it will passion and dedication. He will have fun and seek adventure. He will push himself physically and mentally and no matter how hard it is, he will keep trying until he gets it because that's the kind of kid he is. He will laugh and love and live his life to the extremes because to him, every new day is a chance to scheme and dream and try new things. Every day is a whole adventure on its own, just waiting to be discovered.

Remeber, the world is our playground ... so have fun!
~Ryan Doyle

A Wish for Hope

For our Random Acts of Service Challenge Mischief has chosen the Make A Wish Foundation. It took a lot of research to find a just right charity for him but as soon as he heard about sick kids having the chance to go on adventures, trips and meet celebrities he was on board. Here's the why and the how in his own words ...

Make a Wish is this thing where really sick kids get to leave the hospital and do stuff like regular kids. They can like go to the beach or to Disney or something and forget they are sick for a little while. Sometimes this helps them to get better but if it doesn't then their family has lots of good memories of them, y'know ... after.

Even if they don't get to get better I think they probably feel happier thinking about their wish coming true when they have to go back to the hospital. I like that kids can wish for anything and really nice people try to make those wishes come true. I would like to make a wish but since I'm not sick or anything I'll have to just ask my parents or wait til I'm a grown up.

(Shrugs) Anyway, I am going to make some stuff like cool necklaces or maybe paint some pictures and then I'll sell them. I might even sell some of my own toys too ... maybe. I hope that I can make enough money so that some cool kid can do something really awesome.

Since Make-A-Wish Foundation Canada was started in 1983 more than 4,000 wishes have been granted. Kids from all over Canada have had the opportunity to leave behind the constraints and the gravity of their medical situations for a short time and just be kids. The benefit of having a wish granted goes beyond the actual experience and straight to the heart and the hope of a child.

Experiencing a dream come true, like going to Disney World or swimming with dolphins, can strengthen a child's hope and help them to believe in the impossible. Often times they return from these trips stronger and more optimistic for their recovery and even in the darkest times of their illness they can remember that sometimes wishes do come true, and so they keep fighting.

It is Mischief's wish to make another kid smile, to help a family feel better even when their child is sick and to let them know that all kinds of wishes really do come true.

For more information on how you can help make wishes come true follow this link to the Make-A-Wish Foundation Website.

Once you choose hope, anything's possible. ~Christopher Reeve

Zero Gravity

We've all seen those pictures of astronauts bouncing along happily in zero gravity while they hurtle through space at bone wracking speeds. They are defying gravity, rebelling against science. They have left all their earthly pressures behind and they are living their dream. They are, literally, free from the weight of the world. No wonder they look so happy!

We have a little fella in our house who is seemingly looking for that same kind of bliss. Mischief will not, or maybe cannot, stop climbing things. He has been like this since he was wee. More times than I can count he would come running out of story time at the library and I would lose track of him only to hear the very sweet and understanding librarian say, "Now, Mischief, climbing the book stacks just isn't safe." And there my three year old would be, standing in a triumphant superhero pose, eight feet up in the air.

If it was just the climbing then I could probably deal with it, but its the jumping that comes after the climbing that stops my heart. We used to go to the playground with a group of moms when Crafty started Kindergarten. All of the other two year olds would slide down the slide, play on the bouncers and run around the field. Normal toddler play. Not Mischief. His favourite past time was to run up the slide and jump off the play structure. Apparently the best jumping spot was the platform where the fire pole was ... seven feet off the ground! I remember the first time I saw my wee toddler fling himself off the platform, sail through the air and miraculously land on his feet, unscathed. I ran over to him, checked his limbs for injuries and scolded him for the flying-squirrel maneuver he just performed.

"Its okay Mama, I'm Spiderman" and then he webbed me and ran off.

I had hoped he would grow out of this climbing and jumping thing. I thought that by the time he started school he would understand that climbing shelves, trees, fences and walls just isn't safe and jumping from these lofty heights is even less so but no dice. The little fella has to climb everything ... just to see if he can.

This past weekend our hometown held their annual 'Doors Open' event where churches, historical buildings and government properties opened their doors to the public for tours. Each year we take our kids to a couple of these buildings and usually finish off our day of touring with a stop at one of our favourite places in Winnipeg, The Legislative Building. The kids love the echoing marble halls, the three floors of statues, painting and carvings and the massive banisters at each staircase. We let them walk around and explore as much as they like and generally they are well behaved there.

On Saturday, I was trailing behind everyone after stopping to look at a couple of paintings. When I rounded the corner I saw two of my children literally climbing the walls. So I did what any mother would do ... I snapped a picture then told them to get down. Crafty carefully stepped down onto the bench and apologized for being disrespectful, Mischief jumped down and declared, "That was too easy. Next time I'll go higher!"

Maybe climbing is just in his bones and I need to learn to deal with it. I don't know, I just wish he'd wait a little longer before he chooses a hobby like free climbing our government buildings but I doubt I'll get my way with this one. He is a rough and tumble bundle of fearless adventure ... just like his daddy.

Before I sign off I want to point out one thing about that picture. Notice Mr. Awesome standing just outside the shot. When I asked him what he was doing (as in why did you let them climb that?!) he answered that he was making sure no one fell. It never occurred to him to make them get down, in fact, I'm pretty sure he was trying to figure out how much trouble he would be in if he joined them!

The Sneaky Thumb

This is a tragic tale of a boy with good intentions but a weak will.

When Dude was a baby we gave him a soother. Against all medical and lactation consultant advice, we stuck the Soos in the crying baby's mouth and he magically stopped wailing. And it was good.

When Crafty was born we thought, what's good for the goose and all that, so we gave her a Soos too. She choked and gagged and sputtered in the dramatic fashion that is now her trademark. No Soos for Crafty. She became a finger sucker instead.

Then when wee Mischief came along we decided to try the Soos again. It worked as long as we held it in his mouth but as soon as we left him alone his sneaky thumb would wheedle its way into his mouth and pop the Soos out. Eventually we gave up our efforts with the Soos and gave into the cuteness that was our wee thumb sucker.

Fast forward six years and the thumb sucking is losing its cute-factor.

We have tried all sorts of stuff over the last year to get him to stop with the thumb sucking. We didn't really concern ourselves with it before he started school. We thought since Crafty quit the finger sucking once she realised that other kids don't really do that sort of thing that Mischief would follow suit but he doesn't care. Either he has supreme confidence or no shame (or a mixture of both) because he does not care who sees him suck his thumb. He gets himself up and dressed all cool and dude-like every morning, struts his way into the school, sits down for carpet time with his pals and sucks his thumb. ARG!

On Monday we had him at the dentist. My pal is a dental assistant for the dentist the kids see so before Mischief went in I told her to really put the pressure on about the thumb sucking. She did and so did the dentist. Mischief promised them that he would quit sucking his thumb by his next dental appointment. I was elated until we were on our way out to the van and he asked if I could wait a couple of years before I scheduled the next appointment because he wasn't ready to quit yet.

That night when I put him to bed we stuck a band aid on his sucking thumb and told him to sleep with his hand under his pillow. He said he would give it a try because he didn't want 'donkey teeth' when he was a teenager. Whatever the motivation, I was glad to see him try.

The following morning I found him sitting at the kitchen table, his head on the table, looking miserable. I asked him what was wrong and he held up the discarded band aid and moan that he is for sure going to have donkey teeth.

"What happened to our plan, Buddy?"

"I couldn't do it. The band aid was strangling my thumb so I took it off and then my thumb sneaked into my mouth! I couldn't make it stop. I'm miserable!"

Poor guy, life is rough when you have a sneaky thumb. Anyone know of a 12 step program for thumb suckers?

Understanding the Eternal

Last night, as I was putting The Conman, oops, I mean Mischief, as I was putting Mischief to bed he started asking me the meaning of words. Most of them were easy answers, like the meaning compassion, joy and society. Others had me in stitches because they were so far beyond my realm of comfortable vocabulary I didn't even know if I was giving the correct definition and usage of the words. Hearing phrases like 'true dat' 'up in your grill' and 'fo'shizzle' coming out of a six year old was bizarre and hilarious!

After about ten minutes of playing 'What's that Word?' I decided that his curiosity was anti-bedtime motivated and was just about to shut the conversation down when he started asking Bible questions. The sincerity in his baby face made me cave in under three seconds and before I knew it we were both cuddled up on his bed talking about Bible stories.

We discussed 'who the dude was that appeared in the fiery furnace with those other guys,' why Jesus turned water into wine instead of SunnyD (Sunny D has vitamins and it tastes 'awesome') and our best guess on how long it took to clean up after all those animals on the Ark. He asked if Daniel really did order pizza when he was in the lion's den and why Moses didn't bring a map along when he left with all those people. Then he asked what eternity means.

"It means forever, unchanging."

"So God is forever?"

"Yep, is is always the same, He loves us the same and nothing we do can ever change that."

"Like the front entry and the laundry and stuff?"

"Sorry? I don't follow you."

"God is like laundry and stuff."

"I heard you, I just don't understand the connection."

"Ugh! God is like laundry. He loves us no matter what, all the time right?"

"Yes..."

"There are always dirty clothes in the basket, no matter what. No matter how much you wash our stuff, there's always more dirty stuff. No matter how much you clean the front entry, there's always our junk all over the place. Its always there. Forever. Unchanging. God is like laundry."

"Oh, I see ... yes, I guess, God is like laundry."

Theology from the mind of a six year old ... hilariously simple!

A House Full of Dwarfs

So, it's day two of Spring Break and things are grooving here at this Random House (and of course as right this sentence I am interrupted five times to break up fights and answer the same question twice). We have some pals stopping by for a visit this afternoon and the Wee Ones are so stoked that they have spent much of the past 24 hours helping me to clean and organise the house.

For those of you who know me personally or have been reading this blog since the beginning you know that I am a recovering Domestically Challenged individual but what you may not know is that my control freak tendencies have caused me to swing in the other direction. I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a neat freak but I am pretty picky about how I clean and organise, so much so that Mr. Awesome and the Wee Ones rarely are allowed to help me clean.

I know it sounds crazy, a busy mom turning down help to clean, but I do ... all the time. I get a little mental when the middle of the room is vacuumed but not along the baseboards, or when the kitchen is cleaned except for wiping the table or when the pillows are left in a heap on the couch rather than being arranged properly. I have been mocked and chastised by friends who say they would be blown away with any offer o help from their family and I regularly turn help away. Shame on me?

So yesterday when I started to tidy up the house and Crafty offered to help I said okay. Then Dude wanted in on the cleaning action and Mischief followed along, mostly because he had no one left to play with. So we made a list of all the chores that had to be done and the kids each chose two zones to clean. I watched them scurry around sweeping, dusting and organising and tried to ignore the dust around the baseboards and the teetering stack of 'organised' books on the end table. At the end of the day they toured me around the house to proudly display all that they had accomplished.

"It's just like you have a house full of dwarfs!" Mischief declared.

"What?" I asked, searching for the link between clean house and little people.

"Y'know like Sleeping Snow, wait no, I mean the White girl ... Snow White and all those dwarf guys she made clean her house. You're just like her, Mom and her House Full of Dwarfs."

Not quite the stuff of fairy tales but I'll take it!