The Best Greeting

Happy Summer!

For those who know me well, you'll detect a bit of sarcasm in this greeting. I'm not a fan of summer. I don't like the heat, the bugs, the sun or the inevitable sunburn. I don't like going to the beach because it's sandy, it smells weird, its hot and there's too many people wearing too little fabric. Summer also means 73 (not that I'm counting) unscheduled, unstructured, uninterrupted days with The Wee Ones.

Oy!

It was in this moment of preparing for (dreading?) the start of summer when I heard my pastor say a few words about how the early church was encouraged to greet one another. This got me thinking about those I love to see and those who I love to be seen by. I have a few friends who greet me in a way that makes me feel like a superstar. Their whole face lights up. They wave like lunatics with grins that fill their whole faces. Their eyes light up and they rush in for The Big Hug. Just their greeting alone fills my heart with so much goodness that I can't even.

Then there's those people who greet me like I'm something unpleasant that they've just discovered on the bottom of their shoe. I always feel like I'm inconveniencing those people by just drawing breath near them. I, instinctively, want to apologize rather than greet them. They may wince a smile and limply shake my hand but their whole aura screams their disdain and discomfort. I walk away from those encounters feeling like the world's biggest dork. Clearly, I'd rather be greeted by the first group I described, wouldn't you?

These thoughts tangled with my dread of The 73 Uninterrupted Days of Summer and suddenly I was asking myself a very uncomfortable question. Who gets your best greeting? My mind was instantly filled with those who greet me well (of course), those who I love and respect (naturally), those who are lovely to be with (absolutely) … those who are popular (okay), powerful (umm ..) and important (ouch). Then I asked, how do I greet those I live with verses those from the outside world? Does Mr. Awesome get The Best Greeting? Do the Wee Ones?

These questions - and answers - became very uncomfortable, very quickly. I didn't like the answers. I didn't like what the answers revealed about who is really important to me and who I just think is important. I didn't like that the truth is I often waste my best greeting on people who don't know me, like me or really matter to me and those who I really do love the most get half-hearted, lame greetings. I didn't like any of it. I don't like it.

I know that a greeting sets the tone for the encounter that follows. I know that a greeting communicates value, affection and respect. I know that the right greeting invites relationship and trust. I know that The Best Greeting offers a safe place where you are loved and accepted. So, why then don't I put more into my greetings?

Giving The Best Greeting is a risk. Its laying all your cards on the table, it's streaking through a stadium, it's opening your heart - wide and bare - and waiting to see if your greeting will be accepted and reciprocated. Giving The Best Greeting is terrifying and yet so freeing. I don't know why our culture feels that it's best to play it cool. I don't know how we got to this place of envying the aloof and non-committal. I want to live All-In. I want my kids to live, and love, that way too.

And I think the an All-In Life begins with The Best Greeting.

I remember when The Wee Ones were wee and how they'd all sit on the back of the couch, staring out the window as they waited for Mr. Awesome's big yellow work truck to pull on to our street at the end of the day. Chaos would erupt as he backed into the driveway. The kids would be tripping over each other to be the first one at the door. Often, Mr. Awesome wouldn't even be able to open the door all the way because of all the little bodies in the entrance. Dude would grab Mr. Awesome around the neck in a bear hug, Crafty would hold on to Mr. Awesome's leg, nearly tripping him up as he stumbled through the door. And Joyboy would launch himself through the air, fully trusting that the already bombarded Mr. Awesome would catch him. It was all love and hugs and shouts and laughing. Everyday. It was The Best Greeting.

Truthfully, Mr. Awesome still gets The Best Greeting from the kids even though they are now teens and tweens. He receives The Best Greeting because he always, ALWAYS, gives The Best Greeting to his family. No matter what his day has been, he enters our home with a smile on his face and his arms open to give and receive the love and comfort of his family. Mr. Awesome gives The Best Greeting to everyone. I seriously can't think of one encounter where he hasn't given a hug or firm handshake, where he hasn't smiled and said, 'nice to see you' and genuinely meant it. He never misses a chance to love well, to welcome, to make a friend. And I'm learning.

Mother Teresa once said, "It would be a shame if when we meet people all they get is us." She was talking about the need people have to know God and how our every encounter with people is an opportunity for them to know God a little better. How can I communicate God's infinite love if I can't even greet someone with joy and dignity? How can I love like Jesus f I can't even risk an enthusiastic hello? How will my kids know the unfailing love of God if their mom fails to welcome them home with affection?

Here's the thing, I don't think that The Best Greeting will cure the ails of the world but it's a good (and easy) place to start. It opens the door to friendship and understanding. It sets the tone of your home and your heart. It forces you to look outward. It makes you focus on others more than you focus on yourself. And giving The Best Greeting is like throwing a boomerang - it inevitably comes back to you.

Begin each day grateful, loving and passionate, spread love to all you encounter and greet them with a smile, the power of love and happiness is contagious so share more smiles, laughter, encouragement and joy to those around you.
~Rashida Rowe

Changing the Culture

"What do you think is the main difference between our culture and American culture?"

Mr. Awesome unknowingly asked the question at almost the exact hour that the bombings occurred in Boston yesterday. We were out running errands and discussing a familiar topic; kids. We are working on a community project that will affect all the kids in our community in a positive way ... hopefully. After a lag in the conversation Mr. Awesome posed that question and my answer was immediate.

Fear.

We have often discussed the different vibe each culture puts off, the reputations each country has internationally and the top priorities of each citizenship as topics play out in the media.  When you turn on Canadian news the lead stories are often about policy, political agendas and environmental concerns. In The States lead stories are almost always crime reports, violent crime reports with high death tolls and gruesome details. And the slant on the reporting, in my opinion, fuel fear. And out of fear comes isolation, people pull away from each other and begin to fear the unknown, fear what is different. They begin to fear each other.

Violent crimes happen in Canada. Natural disasters, horrible highway collisions and freak accidents all happen in Canada and they are often reported in the news but somehow the same measure of fear is not infused into the reporting and therefore is not part of our cultural tone. Or because fear isn't part of our cultural tone, its not accepted in our reporting? Either way, Canadians, by and large, do not operate from a basis of fear. Its just not how we roll.

For instance, take a look at this picture

Both images are from The Huffington Post. Both are from today. Can you guess which one is from the Canadian coverage and which is from the American? The Canadian coverage, on the top, makes a declaration of the future. The American coverage, below, seems stuck in the moment of devastation. The Canadian cover quotes the Mayor of Boston's declaration of community. The American cover doesn't. Which would you choose to focus on?

I have many American friends, some of whom are authors. I know them to be kind hearted, hopeful and loving people and most of them have used their fame and success to advocate kindness and humanity. Most of them are involved in their communities and they spend their time and influence on social media to spread messages of hope, peace and acceptance. One author friend is very involved with animal rescue, another is planning an anti-bullying conference (Less Than Three) and still another has taken her voice into prisons to help women rehabilitate and reconnect with their children. They could have chosen to let fear keep them in the prison of their own experiences but they chose to be beacons of hope where they are with what they have. They have stepped beyond their fear and into community.

Bad things are going to happen. Fear is going to creep around the edges of our mind, looking for a weakness but we have a choice. We can indulge our fears and build barriers that will keep us prisoners to our fear or we can declare that in the face of fear there is hope. We can isolate ourselves or we can embrace our neighbour and face our fears together, as a community. We can hide alone or we can borrow strength from each other.

Here's another picture to ponder ...

No matter where you live, what culture you are from or what your natural tendencies are, you can always choose hope. You can always choose light over darkness. You can always choose to be a Helper instead of a victim. You can always choose community over lonliness. You can always choose.

No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that's our real disaster.
~Dalai Lama XIV

The Evolution of a Superhero

Last night we had dinner with friends. Over the course of the evening the story of us, Mr. Awesome and I, came tumbling out. I love sharing our story because its unique and quirky and beautiful. Mr. Awesome feels a little awkward sharing our story because of the weird looks and general confusion that follows our opening line, "We never dated."

Its true. The condensed version of This Random Love Story is that Mr. Awesome and I met, became friends, became best friends then I moved three provinces away for school. When I had been gone for about three weeks he called me and said, "I think you should come home and we should get married."

I hung up the phone.

He called back. A month later I was on a plane heading home, we got engaged at the airport and eight months later we were married. Now, 16 years later we are married with three Wee Wonders. We are truly, madly, deeply in love with each other. We are partners in every sense of the word. He is first and still my best friend.

And he is a superhero.

I started calling him 'Mr. Awesome' one day when he was being anything but awesome. It was during my dark period. Sarcasm and snark were my crutches. I had been battered by Life for a couple of years. We had lost two babies, our house was falling down around us, I had some weird medical things going on and Mr. Awesome was recovering from brain damage after a fall off our roof. We were a mess. I was depressed and angry and nothing, NOTHING he did was right. So in a fit of sarcasm I called him 'Mr. Awesome.'

And then I called him that again and again. And then I called him 'Mr. Awesome' without any sarcasm in my tone. And then the weirdest thing started to happen, he started becoming awesome. For serious! Or he was awesome the whole time and I just didn't recognize it for what it was. Kind of like the chicken and the egg. Either way, he was awesome and I was calling it like I was seeing it.

Its been about 5 years since I first called him Mr. Awesome and this has been the best 5 years of our marriage. Coincidence? I don't think so. When I started focusing on the best parts of my partner, on the best parts of our life together my depression and anger began to lift. I no longer needed sarcasm and snark as my crutches. Instead I enveloped myself with joy and thankfulness for This One Life I get to live and This One Life became amazing.

Clearly, life still has challenges. I still had cancer and went through treatment. Mr. Awesome still does things that annoy me. My kids still disobey. I still make mistakes and disappoint people. Life still happens but I choose to celebrate the good and walk through the bad with as much grace and dignity as I can.

Seeing my life and the transformation that has occurred in each one of us when we chose to focus on the good and call what isn't as though it were has inspired me to carry this idea beyond This Random House. I have tried to look past the irritating behaviours of people in my world and focus on their strengths. I have tried to see beyond who they are to who they could be, who they want to be and you know what? My world is full of superheroes!

These capeless wonders are walking the halls of my schools, driving the streets of my town, sitting in the pews of my church. Magnificent people with joy and hope and kindness are everywhere!  People capable of super human feats of grace, generosity and forgiveness are everywhere I look. They are resilient, they are strong, they are beautiful ... but they are hidden in their everyday humanness.

You have to look through grace to see them, but they're there.

And so am I.

“Don't go on discussing what a good person should be. Just be one.”
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

The Art of Communication

What image comes to mind when you think of 'art'? Do you see a Monet or Di Vinci? A painting or a sculpture? Whatever the piece is, I'm sure its the beautiful, breath taking finished product that's in your mind's eye and not the chaotic artist's studio that the work of art came out of. Communication, especially communication in marriage, is very similar.

Mr. Awesome and I receive comments and compliments on our teamwork all the time. People see us respecting each other, valuing each other's opinions and supporting each other. What they don't see is the chaos that has lead up to the harmony, the hours of hashing things out so that we can be a team, the endless conversations that frame our respect. Last night, we stepped into the artist's studio, we made a mess but this morning we were able to enjoy our latest masterpiece.

That sounds so poetic and constructive and lovely, how I said that just now, but the truth is we had a heated discussion. An intense fellowship. A forceful conversation.

...

We argued.

Yes, its true ... This Random Mother and Mr. Awesome still argue. We often disagree and we don't always keep our cool during those times and last night was one where we broke all the rules, or very nearly broke all the rules.

During our first year of marriage we went to marriage counselling and a large part of the time we spent there was dedicated to learning how to communicate with each other and how to disagree with each other. We were given a few simple rules about how to argue and live to love another day. Over the last 15 years we've added to these rules from our own life experience and now we have some set boundaries on how to work out disagreements. This works for us. Usually. When we follow the rules.

It took us a while but we did get back on track last night and we were able to go to bed without anger and with a better understanding of what we each need from each other. The turning point in our argument was when we both started remembering the rules and returned to 'fighting fair'. So, if this helps someone, awesome, if not ... just chalk this up to more ramblings of a random woman. But here it goes ...

Rules of The Artist's Studio (aka How to Fight Fair)

1. Don't dive in after dark. We try very hard to stick to this one. We have realized over the years that nothing good comes out of bringing up an emotionally charged issue after a long day of working, parenting and spousing. Rarely is an emotional issue urgent, its usually something that pops up in your marriage time and again so its safest to table these issues to when both partners are not exhausted and more apt to say something less than constructive.

I get this is a tough one when you have kids because you're never alone until they're in bed but here's a few tips we've done through the years to stick to this rule. We call an 'Out of Bounds,' which is basically a grown up time out. We let the kids watch TV or a movie and we go to our room to talk. We also schedule lunches together while the kids are at school or for several years we had a standing 90 minute date once a week at the neighbourhood Starbucks. However you do it, carve out purposeful time when both people are alert and ready. Bedtime is not the time for heavy conversation.

2. Stay on topic. Admittedly, I have a hard time with this one because in my mind one thing leads into another and another but before you go off chasing rabbits to make your point remember what the issue is in this moment and stick to it. I've discovered that once I go off topic and start grasping at straws to build my case I make it nearly impossible to find common ground again. We have a saying in our house, "We all can't go to Crazytown, someone has to stay behind to show us the way back!" and I assure you, straying off topic during an argument is the first step toward Crazytown!

3. Know Your Purpose. Why are you arguing?

Do you genuinely disagree on a certain topic or incident or are you just being cranky and argumentative? Be honest.

Are you having this discussion to put your partner in their place, to prove how wrong they are or are you trying to communicate your perspective and your needs? Be honest.

Are you fighting to win or are you striving to make your relationship better, stronger, healthier? Be honest.

If you are just being cranky, are trying to put your partner in their place or are just plain going for the win stop talking. Exhale. Apologize. Move on.

If you genuinely disagree, are attempting to communicate your needs or are trying to improve communication in your relationship  stop talking and ask yourself if what you are saying is honest, respectful, necessary and affirming. If the answer is yes, then make sure your tone is communicating as loudly as your words. If the answer is no then revisit the purpose question.

4. Fight the flight. Maybe its just me, but whenever Mr. Awesome and I really get into it I would rather sleep on the floor of the garage than next to him and the very last thing I want to do is make gentle physical contact with him but this rule is an absolute for us. We do not sleep apart out of anger and if things are really getting emotional then one of us has to be the bigger person and reach out to the other. Hold a hand, rub a shoulder, something to bridge the gap.

We have found that if we reach out to each other physically during an argument that the whole situation deescalates. There is healing power in physical touch, there is an instant reminder of safety, friendship and family when your partner reaches out to hold your hand even though you're angry. Try it. Seriously.

5. Choose your weapons carefully. Words have power so we have a strict no name calling, no personal jabs, no tear down rule when we are in conflict. Absolutely none. Not ever. We're grown ups and like it or not we have to act like it. Even when we're mad.

So last night, things went off the rails for a while but in the end we remembered the rules, we remembered that we really do love each other, respect each other and want to create art with our lives. And like I said, art is created in the middle of mess and chaos but the artist always has the finished product in mind

So do I. And So does Mr. Awesome.

A happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers. -Ruth Bell Graham

A Powerful Man

This has turned into a Random Pride Fest this week ... and I'm okay with that!

I often try to explain to people what Mr. Awesome does for a living but it never really comes out right. He's a Power Lineman for our local hydro company. He's the dude who keeps the power on ... or puts it back on after mother nature has knocked it out. Mr. Awesome spent four years in a tough apprenticeship program to gain his Journeyman ticket and he takes great pride in being one of the elite guys tough enough to do this job.

These guys work outside in all conditions, at crazy heights with an insane amount of electricity coursing through the wires they are handling. They get called out in the dead of night, in the wee hours of the morning and in the middle of holidays and family gatherings. They miss birthdays, Christmas mornings and a lot of sleep to do the job they love, to do the job that's needed. They don't seek any recognition, fame or even thanks. They are linemen and that's often thanks enough.

This is a documentary trailer about linemen. This is what Mr. Awesome does.


Storm Soldiers


So, the next time its thirty degrees below zero or there's a raging storm or its Christmas Day and your power goes out ... and then comes back on ... take a minute to say thanks and offer a prayer of safety for the boys on the line, the ones climbing towers, doing hotwork and working hard.

I always do!

Never go to work mad, start each day with a kiss,

In this type of work, who knows what you'll miss.

Tell your kids you love them and also your wife,

Storms a coming, be late tonight, the lineman's life.

~Poem, A Lineman's Life from Powerlineman.com

It Doesn't, You Do

We've had a heck of a week, how 'bout you?

We've been dealing with some stuff, catching up on life and just trying to make sense of some senseless things so I've not spent a lot of time reading the news or checking out other blogs this week. Until tonight.

Tonight we had dinner, lingered over a cup of coffee and then I caught up on the news while Mr. Awesome cleaned up from supper. That's when I stumbled across the story that has rocked the cyber world. Its the tragic story of Amanda Todd.

If you Tweet, Facebook or have eyeballs, I'm sure you've seen snippets of this story somewhere. Miss Todd was a teen who made some foolish mistakes, was stalked, baited and bullied and ultimately took her own life. She was fifteen. She was precious.

I read the news stories and then I watched the video she made shortly before her third and final suicide attempt. In it she tells her story, how she was made a bad decision when she was thirteen that turned into two years of being hunted, taunted and humiliated. She tells of several school transfers and even a move to a different city to try to escape the inescapable. She finishes off her video by confessing how alone she feels, how its a struggle to live.

Watching that video after the week we've had made another, very popular YouTube video seem like a joke. Awhile back a bunch of celebrities did a series of anti-bullying videos called 'It gets better.' The idea was to give kids who are bullied hope that things get better when you're older. The thing is, they don't.

Mr. Awesome faced a situation this week where he was yelled at, humiliated and belittled by another adult. This guy used information he had gained during my illness to take jabs at Mr. Awesome where he was most vulnerable. He exploded without warning, exhaled and felt better while Mr. Awesome was left rattled.

Maybe this guy was having a bad day. Maybe he was worked up about something else and Mr. Awesome was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he didn't realize how hurtful he was being. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing and he's just a jerk. I don't know. What I do know is that what he said and how he said it was hurtful, unnecessary and cruel.

I also know that Mr. Awesome is better than this situation. He's better than this unkindness. He's better than this act of self indulgent, immature behaviour.

Bullying is bullying no matter how old you are. Unkindness hurts whether you're 15 or 45. Being victimized is humiliating whether you're in the schoolyard or the workplace. It doesn't get better. As long as people are people and selfishness reigns, it doesn't get better.

But you do.

You get stronger, smarter and more resilient. You learn that cruel people are that way because of what's in their heart, not because of what you do, what you wear or what you say. You learn that people who carry a lot of baggage take wide swings and they don't care who they hit. You learn that one ounce of truth wrapped in a ton lies and anger becomes twisted and warped. You learn that its not about you.

So the hope we need to give our kids, the lifeline they need to stay connected, to stay tethered to this life is this; It doesn't get better, you do. And you never have to be alone.

Not ever.

I know God will not give me anything I can't handle.  I just wish that He didn't trust me so much.  ~Mother Teresa

Mr. Mom ... Awesome!

Mr. Awesome has been off work since my surgery. We are fortunate that he works for a great company that offers amazing benefits and employee support and his coworkers have chipped in and helped out at every opportunity. This has afforded us three months to focus on nothing but our family and my health. Although I have a lot of good days I also have a lot of limitations on what I am able to do so Mr. Awesome has been picking up the slack.

In the months since my surgery he has taken over laundry, kitchen duty and house cleaning on top of his regular dad moments of bed times and bath times. I have helped when able but seriously, the bulk of this domestic machine is being run by The Mister. He has even become very efficient with grocery shopping and errand running.

He has handled all this like a champ and has found a certain amount of satisfaction from his new skill set. In fact, he gets a little annoyed when I help out; he says I mess with his system. And Heaven forbid I question his methods!

Last week I commented that he doesn't fold the towels like I did. I tried to explain that by folding the towels my way we can fit everything on the self. He then dragged me over to the linen closet and pointed out that 'his' way makes the towels less bulky and he, in fact, fit more towels per shelf. All right then.

He's not always right, though. I had to call in back up to settle a domestic dispute a couple of weeks ago. Not the cops, my pal, Erin who cleans our house once a week. Erin walked into a full blown domestic disturbance; Mr. Awesome and I were debating the dishwasher loading techniques. I told him that Tupperware can't go on the bottom rack and his mature and eloquent response was, "bologna!"  Erin tried to slip through the kitchen unnoticed but we trapped her and forced her to pick a side. I won!

Today takes the cake though. I was feeling pretty good this morning so I accompanied Mr. Awesome to the grocery store to pick up a few things. We were going up and down the aisle, debating the list he had made up and what brands and deals were available. I could tell my input was getting to The Mister. He was trying hard to not get annoyed with me and I was trying hard to annoy him; it is just that kind of day.

We made our way to the peanut butter aisle, a place of contention with Random Family. When it comes to peanut butter choices we are a family divided. Some like smooth, some prefer crunchy; some like Kraft, others want Skippy. We can never agree, so as we stood in front of the peanut butter choices I knew this was my moment to drive Mr. Awesome around the bend.

I picked up a jar of Kraft Crunchy, my brand and mix of choice, and put it in the cart. As he looked to see what I had dropped in there I stood in front of the Smooth choices, his preference. He scanned the shelves for his favourite, grumbling that he could only find the low sodium stuff. I stood there, smirking, telling him that I had read somewhere that Kraft wasn't making regular smooth peanut butter anymore because the demographic that eats smooth is so old that they need low sodium. Old people can't handle crunchy because of their dentures.

That was it; bringing up my favourite taunt completely undid him and Mr. Awesome had a wee melt down in the peanut butter aisle. I started to laugh and stepped away from the shelf. He swiped his favourite off the shelf, dropped it into the basket and stomped away in a huff. I followed behind, still laughing.

"After everything you're dealing with you are going to let a jar of peanut butter, and not very good peanut butter at that, get to you? That's what's going to be the cause of your undoing?"

He turned, looked me dead in the eye and said, "I have plans."

Now, hours later, I am twitchy and constantly checking my back because as my pal Debbie says, revenge is best served cold so in twenty years when something horrible happens to you, remember this moment.

Seriously, though, Mr. Awesome rocks my world and I couldn't imagine living this life with anyone else ... except for maybe Gerard Butler, but that's a whole other fantasy!

Soul-mates are people who bring out the best in you. They are not perfect but are always perfect for you. ~Author Unknown

No-Fail Recipe for Insomnia

WARNING: This post is written at 1:45am. This Random Mother cannot be held responsible for rants, incoherent sentences and poor grammar that may result from lack of sleep and subsequent crankiness.

For the bazillionth time in the past couple of weeks I have been driven from my cozy duvet cocoon by chaotic, aggressive snoring and seizure-grade twitching. I am tired, cranky and a little terrified (the tired and cranky are from lack of sleep, the terrified is from the three episodes of Criminal Minds I watched this evening).

A couple of weeks ago Mr. Awesome fractured his rib. I'm not sure how he did it but apparently the incident involved our driveway, ice, the Jeep and Mr. Awesome's own special brand of clumsiness. Ever since that fateful afternoon I have spent more time sleeping in the living room than in my own bed. Not good.

Mr. Awesome's sleep positions are limited because of his injury; he can sleep comfortably on his back, resulting in annoying loud snoring, or he can sleep on his uninjured side and spend the night painfully twitching every time he repositions. Both options leave me not sleeping and plotting his demise ... so I take to the chaise lounge.

Normally, I sleep pretty well in my comfy chair but today I cooked up a No-fail Recipe for Insomnia that has left me jittery, paranoid and wide awake despite my desperate need for sleep. Curious about my Sleep-No-More concoction? Well, here it is ...

Start with a 2 hour, late afternoon, nap. Add two steaming, delicious cups of coffeejuice and stir in three episodes of the most intriguing, yet terrifying, crime drama on TV. Add two hours of snoring, twitching husband and let simmer. Remove from bedroom and place in dark living room in front of large picture window with the curtains wide open. Guarantee no sleep in the foreseeable future.

I know. The logical thing would have been to close the blinds, think happy thoughts and go to sleep. Instead, I am cowering in the basement, listening to Veggie Tales Silly Songs and writing this little ditty for you fine folks. I have contemplated sleeping on the basement sofa but that would mean I would have to walk through the Lego minefield that is my family room ... I don't think so. I have also considered crawling in to bed with Crafty but she has every stuffed animal ever made in bed with her so, no dice.

I also have a guest room with a moderately uncomfortable bed that I could sleep in but that option poses two problems. Problem one, I'd have to walk back through my dark house to get to the guest room and who knows what kind of UnSubs are lurking in the dark. Problem Two, which is infinitely more scary and possible fatal to Mr. Awesome, I can still hear him snoring when I'm in the guest room.

So ... here I sit. 2 am. Listening to The Dance of the Cucumber. Wondering just how much force and for how long one should hold a pillow over some snoring person's face to stop the snoring but not induce death. Just wondering, is all.

People who snore always fall asleep first. ~Author Unknown

The Walmart Rule

For Christmas Mr. Awesome received a BBQ apron that says "The views expressed by this husband are not necessarily those of the management." I'm thinking of making him wear this apron all the time.

For as generous, loving, funny, compassionate and kind as Mr. Awesome is he has one flaw that continually lands him in hot water; he has no filter. If he sees something, anything or anyone, he is compelled to comment. Often these comments are blurted out long before his brain has a chance to catch them, edit them and weigh the impact of them and some of his guffaws are legendary. Especially the ones directed to me.

When I was about 7 months pregnant with Dude, Mr. Awesome mentioned to our pastor that I was pretty top-heavy. The experienced husband and father of five just shook his head and backed away slowly. Then when I was pregnant with Crafty I told Mr. Awesome that I was craving rice to which he replied, "You're just like a sumo wrestler!"

There have been countless other foot-in-mouth moments with Mr. Awesome, some directed at me, some to my mother and some to just random people we encounter. He honestly doesn't mean to be rude or to hurt anyone, he just is lacking a proper verbal filter. And there is no place on earth where this is more evident than at Walmart.

Maybe its the diverse crowd of folks that frequent Walmart or maybe its just the time and location we tend to go to Walmart but something about that giant, brightly lit, mega store strips away any shred of social sense Mr. Awesome has. He gawks and comments on everything and everyone we see, so much so that I have made a rule; The Walmart Rule.

The rule is that when we go to Walmart after 10pm on any given night he is not allowed to talk with the exception of answering yes and no questions. He is not allowed to look at, pull faces or otherwise gesture to anything or anyone he finds interesting or unusual. If he finds that he just cannot contain himself he must look at the floor or wait in the van until I am done shopping. This rule is for his own personal safety ... and it works pretty well.

It works so well, in fact, that it is now a universal rule that I invoke quite frequently ... and not just for Mr. Awesome. I have come to learn that a quick wit and a sharp tongue are less of a gift when they are left to their own devices; that there is value and kindness in words unsaid and that I seem far wiser when I am silent than when I speak. I also have realised that I cannot remember a single time when I have regretted not saying something in haste.

The Walmart Rule ... try it.


Every speaker has a mouth; An arrangement rather neat. Sometimes it's filled with wisdom. Sometimes it's filled with feet.
Robert Orben

Kindness Matters

This morning was supposed to be my running errands morning. I had a few Christmas gifts to pick up, I needed a few more bits and pieces for the gifts I'm making, Mischief needs a pair of pants for his concert tonight and I ordered a slew of pictures for the 'Surprise' calendar I make for my mom every year. A busy morning but I was looking forward to getting everything done at once. That was the plan until I became the Angel of Darkness.

Everywhere I went this morning the power went out. Seriously. I walked into Superstore and five minutes later the power went out. I went for gas at Canadian Tire and BOOM no power. I run into Walmart to pick up my pictures and SHAZAM darkness.

I manage to make it home (no traffic lights anywhere along the route ... no good) and pull into my driveway. I hit the remote for the garage door to open and POW the door gets halfway up and then stops. I duck under the door and let myself into the house and sure enough, no power here either!

I figure I have either become an energy sapping super hero a la X-men (oh, that's no so bad ... I could handle a little time with Wolverine!) or Mr. Awesome is out somewhere in this freezing wind, chilled to the bone, trying to sort this mess out. Turns out its option B.

They are still trying to sort things out around town but the power's back on at home. My errands are only partly done but at least I am home and warm and cranking out the Christmas tunes. I still have my Good Cheer groove on so its all good but I wish I could say the same for some of the people I encountered today.

Most people took the power outages in stride but there were a few crazies out there, too. And I must confess that I can't confirm or deny that I may or may not have possibly told one of the button heads off at Walmart. After waiting around for 15 minutes to see if the power was going to come back on I decided to just head home. I was on my way out of the store when I passed a man in the foyer of the store complaining loudly about Hydro employees.

"Those lazy SOBs are probably sitting at Tim's enjoying a cup of coffee right now. I only have 15 minutes before I have to get back to work. I wish they'd pull their heads out of their own you-know-whats and get to work. Its my tax dollars their wasting!"

"Yeah, this kind of bites," I say. "I have a huge list of errands I wanted to get done too this morning. DO you work in an office?"

"Yes"

"Heated?"

"Of course"

"Hmmm, that's great. So you are warm and comfortable at work?"

"Yes?"

"Well, my husband doesn't work in an office. He, in fact, works for Hydro. So when you return to your warm and comfortable office to complain about 'those lazy Hydro SOBs' know that he is outside, right now trying to restore power. He is climbing poles in these winds and messing with electricity so that thankful citizens such as yourself can have heat and light and power. Merry Christmas!"

So, children, as you are running too and fro this season you may encounter some inconveniences but please remember the people working the tow trucks, driving the buses, policing our streets, driving the ambulances and restoring your power are just doing their jobs. Jobs they chose. Jobs they love and take pride in. So please be kind and respectful and look at that 'inconvience' as an opportunity to spread a little Good Cheer rather than complaints.

Always be a little kinder than necessary.
~James M. Barrie

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

Here's to the Working Girls!

I haven't been around here much lately because I'm working. I am covering a reception gig while someone is on vacation. Its half days and everyone in the office is great. I'm really enjoying myself.

When I accepted the job I thought, 'Halfdays, no big deal. I can work in the mornings and do all my regular stuff in the afternoons. Easy!' Wrong! Its not easy and I must applaud you working moms.

I am only a week into working and already we are starving, have no clean clothes and live in a house that's a step away from being a hoarder's paradise. I can't remember the last time I did a load of laundry, went grocery shopping or cleaned a bathroom. Our front entrance has become a graveyard of school papers, broken jackets and lunchtime leftovers and don't even get me started on the condition of my kitchen!

I know that the world is full of working parents who balance home life and work life but I've never had to do it, I have no system and frankly my family is less than helpful with picking up the slack. I have the stay-at-home mom thing down pretty well. I have a routine, a schedule and I'm pretty good at juggling the things that go along with being a SAH but this working thing is a totally different monster!

There is a pay off with both and a definite downside to both as well. As a SAH I have a few hours to myself everyday. True, I have to fill those solitary hours with glamorous tasks like grocery shopping, laundry and bathroom cleaning but at least its quiet and I can get things done. the downside is that domestic chores don't give me that much fulfillment, I get lonely for adult contact and my days can stretch out before me like a desert wasteland of sameness if I don't actively pursue opportunities to volunteer and participate in things I enjoy.

As a working girl I get to be with adults, have real meaningful conversations and have a real sense of accomplishment at the end of the day. I get to wear nice clothes, use my brain on something more than Lego assembly and I have something interesting to talk about at the end of the day. The negative to this duel track working mom life is that after a day of working I still have all the regular mom stuff to do but with less time and more interruptions.

My mom was a working mom for most of my growing up years and more than that she also was a part time student for many years. I remember her spending her evenings and weekends juggling studying with being a mom and although I was too young to think of it then as an adult I have often wondered how she did it. How did she do everything?

In the edges of my memories I can see the secret to her success ... my dad. He cooked, cleaned, took us to the park, made sure the school notes were signed and lunches made when my mom couldn't. He tucked us in at night and woke us up in the morning. He did so much of the day to day stuff so that when mom had a few minutes where she wasn't working or studying she was able to spend it with us ... just being our mom. He was the first Mr. Awesome.

My Mr. Awesome has been unbelievable these last couple of weeks. Not only has he been doing all of his regular Awesomeness but he has also gone above and beyond. He has helped me to plan and execute a major fundraiser and a huge school event. He has BBQed for a couple of hundred people, ran a zillion errands, picked kids up, dropped them off, made lunches, cooked dinner and a thousand other little things. he has made me look good these last few weeks ... well, these last 14 years, to tell the truth.

He's my pal, my partner and the reason I can do all I do ... thanks, Mr. Awesome!

So here's to the Working Girls and all the Mr. Awesomes who pitch in, pick up the slack and are man enough to be a domestic goddess! Here's to us!

More than Just Numbers

This past weekend was a big weekend. It was the tenth anniversary of the terror attacks against the US in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania.

On September 11, 2001 I sat on my living room couch in our small basement apartment and watched the events of the morning unfold. Dude was 18 months old I was pregnant with Crafty. Mr. Awesome was working in Northern Manitoba and as soon as I heard about the first plane I called him to see if he was watching the news. We sat on the phone together for more than three hours, mostly in stunned silence as we watched plane hit building, people running into the streets, people jumping from buildings and finally, we watched as the World Trade Centre fell.

2, 977 people died that day. Office workers, delivery people, tourists, police officers, fire fighters, rescue workers ... people just going about their days, doing their jobs. People who never suspected that September 11, 2001 would be their last day. People we never knew but people we'll never forget.

This weekend was also a big deal for this Random Family because we took part in Dragonboat Races. Mr. Awesome is on a Dragonboat Team, Blew By U. He spends the year rasing money with his teammates for the Canadian Cancer Society and every year on the weekend after September long weekend he races for a cure. 130 teams participate in this weekend. Its a competition but it is also a weekend to celebrate those who have fought, won and lost battles with cancer.

In 2011, it is predicted that 70,000 people in Canada will die from cancer and cancer related illness. More than 170,00 Canadians will be diagnosed with cancer this year. Office workers, delievery people, teachers, bus drivers, rescue personnel, mothers, fathers, friends, children ... people we know ... people we love ... people we will never forget.

As we stood on the banks of Lake Shirley on Sunday afternoon and paid tribute to those fighters we have all known and lost, I thought about the global televised event that was taking place at the same time, the 9/11 memorial service. I thought about the contrast, the millions of viewers commemorating 3,000 lives and the few hundred paddlers and spectators remembering the thousands of lives lost every years.

I'm not saying that there was anything wrong with the way any of those lives were remembered, the numbers just got to me. What got to me more was knowing that in a year from now the lives lost on 9/11/2001 will be the same but tens of thousand will be added to the number of lives that cancer has stolen.

If you want to help out, if you want to stand with those who are fighting personal cancer battles, if you want to be added to the list of cure-finders please give. Donate, Fundraise, Join a Team ...

Canadian Cancer Society

If children have the ability to ignore all odds and percentages, then maybe we can all learn from them. When you think about it, what other choice is there but to hope? We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up, or fight like hell.
~Lance Armstrong

Team Awesome

I'm not a very serious person. I can often be found/caught making a joke at the most inappropriate times. I know that I use humour and wit to cope with emotionally uncomfortable situations and I'm okay with that.

Although we've been dealing with some big stuff over the past couple of weeks we have spent a lot of time laughing and teasing and just being 'us'. Tears have their time and place, and we have shed a few recently, but for me, laughter trumps tears. Even at the most serious times we have laughed. It helps. The laughter has kept our worst fears at bay; it allows us to vent, be ridiculous and find comfort in each other. The laughter has brought us together.

There have been many jokes and crazy moments lately but nothing tops the night we returned to my parents house, a couple of days after the quadding accident. It was the first time I had seen my dad since leaving him and my mom in the emergency room, waiting for transport to the hospital in the city. He was in rough shape that night and truthfully I was a little nervous about what condition he would be in when we saw him again.

Thankfully he was back to himself, except for the neck brace, sling and multiple scrapes and bruises. We spent the evening talking about the accident and everything that surrounded it. We also spent a lot of time joking with each other. We teased that, in retrospect, perhaps putting the two most accident prone people we know (my Dad and Mischief) on a quad together was not the best idea. I ribbed my Dad that he couldn't just let me have my moment of pity with my sprained wrist, he had to upstage me with a backboard and neck brace and he teased me that the accident was all my fault because if I had never got married and had kids there would be no grandchildren to take quadding.

After a couple of hours, Dad started to nod off in his recliner so we called it a night. He was planning on spending the night in his recliner because it was the most comfortable place for him to sleep so Mom just hunkered down on the couch, in case he needed anything in the night. Mr. Awesome and I agreed that Mom should stay close by because the last thing we needed was for Dad to stumble around in the dark and fall down. They laughed and wished us good night.

Twenty minutes later I was laying in bed reading when Mr. Awesome came into the room, ready for bed. I glanced up at him and broke out in hysterics. I laughed until I cried, until I couldn't breath, until I wet the bed ... nearly. He was covered from the head to navel with glitter; he looked like a vampire from Twilight!

Turns out he had taken a shower and then grabbed a moisturizer from the basket in the bathroom to use. It wasn't until he had slathered it all over his head and torso that he realised he was using Crafty's Glitter Girl lotion. He thought he could slip into bed without me noticing and he'd just rinse off again in the morning before anyone saw. No such luck!

I laughed so hard and so loud that I thought for sure the kids were going to wake up. Once I calmed down I somehow talked Mr. Awesome into going back to the kitchen to get me some water. He snuck upstairs in the dark and was just about to open the fridge when I came up behind him and flicked on the lights. My plan was to reveal Glitter Awesome to my parents so they could have a good laugh to but we were the ones in for a bit of a shock.

When I looked into the family room I saw my Dad lying on the floor, sling side up. It seems my Dad wanted to sit with my Mom for a while so he decided to crawl on his knees across the family room, figuring this would be the least dangerous mode of travel. What he didn't count on was the charlie horse that would launch him, face down into the carpet.

Mr. Awesome went over to my Dad and tried to help him up but it was still kind of dark in that part of the room and he was having a difficult time so I flicked on the lights. Shazam! Glitter Awesome! My Mom was stunned, she could not figure out was Mr. Awesome was sparkling like a disco ball. I started to laugh all over again and my Dad looked up for the first time and burst out laughing. So there we were, my Dad rolling from side to side on the floor laughing, my Mom and I sitting on the couch laughing to tears and Mr. Awesome, still trying to help my Dad up while mumbling something about the label on the bottle saying moisturizer.

It took us fifteen minutes to calm down enough to get my Dad up off the floor and settled in for the night again. When we finally got back into bed that night, the wait of the circumstances was still there, but I was not carrying it alone. The laughter reminded me that I am not alone in the dark times anymore than I am in the light. Hope rides in laughter and brings with it true joy, healing and comfort. God is in the laughter, too.

Laughter gives us distance. It allows us to step back from an event, deal with it and then move on.
~Bob Newhart

The Dad Life

When I met Mr. Awesome, I had no idea what kind of dad he would be. I don't think the thought even crossed my mind until I was twelve hours into a very un-fun labour with Dude. I can remember thinking in my pain riddled delirium, "I hope Mr. Awesome is going to be a good dad because I don't want anything to do with this kid when this is all over, we haven't even met yet and already I'm not very fond of him!"

Back then, before kids, Mr. Awesome was a philosophical, outdoorsy guy with long hair, wool socks and an extensive wardrobe of jeans and sweatshirts. He winter camped, hiked the backwoods and cycled around England for kicks. He was funny, thoughtful, friendly and entirely independent and I loved all those things about him.

Now, with independence and spontaneity gone the way of the dinosaurs, with nothing but kids, homework, housework, home repair and budget balancing filling our 'free time' I sometimes look at him and wonder, "What did I do to this guy?!" I can't remember the last time he hiked or broke out a pair of wool socks. His hair is gone and so are his carefree days of packing up for a weekend of solitary and serene trail wandering. I genuinely feel bad for the guy sometimes.

And just when I am feeling like I ruined him with this crazy life of kids, responsibilities and commitments he does or says something that reminds me that this, all of this, is the life he chose. He gladly traded in his backpack for a diaper bag and gave up a life of wilderness exploration for a life of pushing strollers, installing car seats and holding wee hands. He cherishes the sticky hugs, the chaos that erupts each time he walks through the door and the begging for 'just five more minutes' of playtime with him. This life of science projects, Barbie playing and Lego building, the evenings of playing ball, building snow forts and home reading, the early morning bagel runs, the late night popcorn parties and all the silly, crazy, loving moments in between ... this is the life he dreamed of, The Dad Life!

I found this video on Youtube, its from a church in Tulsa ... the Dad Life may not be glamorous but it is full of unbelievable perks! Watch, enjoy and celebrate the dads in your life this weekend!

He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. ~Clarence Budington Kelland

14 Years of Awesomeness

No Blog today ... I'm spending the day celebrating with Mr. Awesome.

Thanks for 14 years of love, friendship, encouragement and support. There is so much more I could say but I'd rather be spending time WITH Mr. Awesome today than writing about him.

"To love would be an awfully big adventure."

— J.M. Barrie

The Epitome of Awesome

This will be a short one today because it's Mr. Awesome's birthday and I am spending the day with him.

I love birthdays, not just my birthday but any one's birthday. I love that it is a day for people to celebrate the birthday person, a day when you are flooded with messages of love, appreciation and well wishes. It's a day for all your pals to say, "I'm glad you were born!" So today, I am saying to my best pal ... I am so very glad you were born!

I could write volumes about everything I have learned and all that I have become because of the love, support and partnership of Mr. Awesome. I could go on forever about his passion for our family, his dedication to our relationship and his faithfulness in being a provider. I could rant and rave about his charm, good looks and sense of humour. I could praise him for his generosity and compassion. I could. Seriously, I could go on and on but there is only one thing you ever really need to know about Mr. Awesome.

He loves.

He is a man who understands the value of loving. He loves his family, his friends and random people who cross his path. He sees worth and treasure inside people others would cast aside because he loves. He will go out of his way to help out, give or volunteer because he loves. He is faithful and fair, he is inclusive and accepting, he has an open mind and open arms because he loves. He is protective, strong and he won't back down because he loves. He stands strong on his principles, holds tight to his faith and strives to live what he believes because he loves. He is fearless, strong and confident because he loves. He is all that is awesome in my world because he loves.
Happy birthday to my love, Mr. Awesome!

Choose Love

Over the weekend Mr. Awesome and I attended a wedding. I have known the bride since she was a wee lass. In fact, she was my flower girl when Mr. Awesome and I wed a hundred years ago. We met the Man of Her Dreams about five years ago when she was babysitting for us and shyly asked if she could have a 'friend' come babysit with her.

It has been an honour to watch these two sweet teens grow into a couple of mature, generous and kind adults. They have conducted their relationship with integrity and respect from the beginning, so much so that during their ceremony the church was filled with the joy, innocence and anticipation of saved love. The atmosphere they created by honouring each other, their parents and most of all, their faith was something to marvel.

At the wedding everyone at our table shared the story 'them,' how they came to be a couple. One couple dated for a couple of months before their engagement, wedding and whirlwind adventure into parenthood, another worked together for several of years and another met while volunteering at a camp. When it was our turn to share, Mr. Awesome and I just looked at each other and laughed. Our story always raises a few eyebrows. You see, the truth of the matter is, Mr. Awesome and I never dated.

We were friends, best friends. We had spent hours hanging out, sharing secrets, hopes and dreams. We told each other everything, all of our mistakes, failures and flub-ups. We got to know each other, the good and the bad, over the course of a year, without pretence, showing off or covering up the truth of all that we were. Knowing all that we did about each other, we loved each other in spite of, or because of, everything anyway.

About a year after we met, I was living in Vancouver and he was living in Winnipeg. We talked on the phone nearly everyday and wrote to each other (pre-email days) several times a week. After about two months of being apart he called and said he thought I should come home so we could get married. I hung up on him but he called back and a month later I was on a plane heading home to my old friend and new fiance.

Every time we tell our story people are in awe that we would marry someone we didn't even date. We get the same questions every time, How can you know a person you've never dated, what about physical attraction, what if you didn't have 'chemistry'? 

We believe that true, lasting love is a decision you make. It has little to do with the emotion of love, sure that might hook you in the beginning but is that enough to make you stay when life gets real and messy and complicated? For us, the basis of respect and affection that grew out of our friendship has been the backbone to our marriage. When things have been rough and Mr. Awesome has been less than awesome I have been able to look at him and know that somewhere in that mess of a human being is the friend that I love. He has been able to do the same with me in my less than stellar moments, too.

Real love is a decision you make everyday, no matter how your relationship began. Living with integrity, fidelity and respect for your partner is not something that you fall into, its a choice that you make. Just like you don't fall in love or out of love. You choose, moment by moment, who and how you love.

Mr. Awesome and I decide every day to love each other, to respect and honour the promise we made to each other nearly 14 years ago. We decide, in spite of our moods and emotions or the mood and emotions of our partner, to love, to protect and to be faithful to the heart of our friend ... our best friend.

The Stuff of Horror Flicks

I swear my life has been like scenes out of a horror film this week.

We have been woken in the middle of the night by zombie like creatures stumbling into our bedroom, moaning and mumbling incoherently. They beckon us to follow and like all terrified nitwits in those movies, we go with them, into the dark. They lead us through hallways and down stairs, we feel the ground squishing under our feet and a pungent odor seers our nostrils. The zombie suddenly flicks on the light and we scream in horror.

The zombie is our vomit covered child and the 'squish' we are standing in is a pool of their own making. We have been lead, in the dead of night, to their rooms were they have 'not quite' made it to the bathroom. Welcome to The Flu of 2011.

We lived in a house with hardwood floors for six years. And in those six years we only had one episode of a child throwing up on the floor. We have lived in this beautifully carpeted home for six months and in the past week all three children have chucked on the carpets. Seriously?

This is one of the worst parts of parenting, I don't do well with puking kids. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad for the kids when they are sick but the cleaning of the chunky carpets, the washing of the stinky bedding and the constant stench of sick in the house is almost more than I can handle. Although I do better than my mom did when we were kids, more often than not she would end up throwing up with us, I am not the parent the kids seek out when they are sick.

This is Mr. Awesome's forte, this is how he earns his awesome. He can comfort the kids, clean the floors and change the bedding without so much as a grimace. He makes everyone feel like everything is going to be just fine. In fact, when I called him earlier to give him an update on the kids, he offered to come home and help clean up the mess on the floor. Although I declined his offer, and cleaned up everything myself, he still gets bonus points for asking.

Every horror flick needs a hero after all.

Bizzy and Uncle Awesome

Last weekend my sister and my niece, three year old Bizzy, came to stay with us for a few days. We had a good time just hanging out, chatting and watching the kids play. It's been several years since we've had someone that little living in our house so we sort of forgot some things, mainly how three year olds are the best people to keep your ego in check.

This visit Bizzy didn't bother with me to much, she was all about Uncle Awesome.

Mr. Awesome is a power lineman for the local hydro company. He is pretty proud of his career, as are most guys in this trade. I joke that they all have God complexes because they work so high off the ground and play with power, he says it's not a God complex it's just that they are all just that good.

So last Friday when Mr. Awesome came in the door, dressed in his grubby orange coveralls and Fire Resistant blue shirt and chore coat, Bizzy took one look at him and said, "You are a gas man?" Thinking that she meant that he worked for the natural gas side of the company, Mr. Awesome replied, "No, baby-girl, Uncle Awesome is a lineman. I climb poles."

"You work at co-op?" she asked. My sister burst out laughing and explained that Bizzy thought that Mr. Awesome pumped gas for a living. Deflated, Mr. Awesome said, "No Bizzy, Uncle Awesome does not work at the gas station." Bizzy took a step back from him, looked him up and down, wrinkled her nose and said, "You are very dirty," and walked away, completely unimpressed.

Fast forward a week to this morning, Mr. Awesome and I were leaving the house at the same time this morning and I mentioned to him that the van needs gas. Being the awesome guy that he is, he offered to follow me to the gas station and fill the van up for me.

I pulled up to the pump and rolled down my window as Mr. Awesome jumped out of his truck and walked over to the van. "Fill 'er up!" I joked. I watched him as he took the nozzle from the pump and started filling the tank,

"You know, " I said.

"Don't even say it!"

"I'm just saying, I can sort of see her point," I laugh.

He hung his head and started to laugh. This man who had just spent seventeen hours working through smoke and wind and snow at a barn fire, then patrolled miles of line in blizzard like conditions, this guy who went through four years of hardcore apprenticeship, years of roughneck on the job training and works in hazardous conditions daily looked down at himself, in his Hydro uniform, pumping gas and said, "Bizzy's right, I do look like a gas attendant."

There is nothing like the observations of a three-year old to humble you, give you perspective and make you laugh at yourself.