'Tis the Season

It snowed last week so I should have seen it coming. The kids put on a Chanukah Celebration featuring The Pajama Elf & Baby Jesus; I should have taken that as a sign. I decorated for Christmas this weekend; I was inviting trouble. I've been wearing my Magic Christmas Socks for a week, just tempting fate, so when it happened this morning, why was I so surprised?

We have the first sicky of the season ... The Cold & Flu Season.

Dude woke up this morning looking like ten miles of bad road, as my dad would say. He was blurry eyed, sniffley nosed and running for the bathroom. After spending 20 minutes leaning over the toilet, declaring his impending demise, I told him to shuffle back to bed. No school for him.

There are Christmas Carols, Chanukah Songs, music for New Year's, Chinese New Year's, Thanksgiving, Easter, Springtime, Summertime ... anytime. There is a song for almost any occasion but I can't seem to find one for this season, this Cold & Flu Season ... maybe I should write one.

(To the tune of Head & Shoulders, Knees & Toes)
Sniffles and  Coughs and Runny Eyes, Runny Eyes, Runny Eyes
Sniffles and Coughs and Runny Eyes ... Fever, Aches, Sneezes and Phlegm

or

(To the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star)
Upset stomach, stuffy nose
I hate being sick, man, this blows


Or ... maybe not.

My wish for you this Cold & Flu Season is this ... May your sniffles be short, your Kleenex be plentiful and may all your children have excellent puking aim always! Be Well!!!

A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book. ~Irish Proverb

The Pink Scarf

A couple of months ago my friend gave me a pink scarf. She called first to ask if I'd wear it, knowing my dislike for the colour pink. She also knows that I am a sucker for a good cause so once she told me it was purchased in support of Breast Cancer Research I said I'd take it.

That was Before. Before, when my lumpy breast was just a cyst and I was running through my life at warp speed. Before I woke up every morning with my first conscious thought being, "I have cancer." Before I ran out of steam long before I finished my 'To Do' list, Before I needed to nap in the afternoon if I wanted to go out in the evening, Before I worried about whether my exhaustion was caused by stress or cancer. Before I saw the colour pink as an uber-girly hue that I would never voluntarily wear.

That was Before. This is Now.

Now my second thought every morning is, "This has come to pass, to pass, to pass." Now I am setting priorities and spending my time doing what I really want to do. Now I am saying "no" to things that clutter my time and sap my energy. Now I am experiencing Hope, Kindness and Encouragement as real, tangible things. Now I see the colour pink as a banner of all these things, as a mantle in honour of all those who have come before me, as a talisman against negativity and despair. Now I wear my pink scarf like a warm hug and a suit of armour.

I wear my scarf almost every day. It reminds me of the friend who gave it to me, her thoughtfulness, irreverent humour, fierce love and protective strength. It reminds me that she believes in me, loves me and is fighting for me ... and so are many, many others.

 I reminded myself of that last night, when I was tired and sad. I wrapped myself in my pink scarf and thought about all of the people who are cheering me on. All the people who are thoughtful, funny, loving and strong. All the people who believe in me, who are fighting along side me. I wrapped myself in my scarf, in my people, in pink and remembered that Hope is the thing. Hope is the thing that held me Before, is carrying me through Now and will be with me After.

After.

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand. ~Emily Kimbrough

The Modern Child

Remember when you were in elementary school and there was that kid who could entertain himself for hours by picking his nose and examining what he found there? Or the kid who cried over everything? Or the one who could burp the alphabet? Or what about the kid who covered her arms and hands in self inflicted doodles? Or how about the kid who prided himself on making people run, screaming from his presence by sheer force of his self made noxious fumes?

Remember those kids? Fun times.

Or maybe you were one of those kids?

You'd think that in this day and age of techno savvy kids bombarded by adult images on every billboard and commercial kids nowadays would be much more mature and  sophisticated. Yeah ... not so much. I spent three hours on a school bus yesterday and I can tell you that there is nothing elegant or composed about the modern nine year old. They are just as goofy, gross and juvenile as kids ever were ... and proud of it!

I was one of several parent volunteers on a field trip with Crafty's school choir. When I signed up I thought I'd be hanging with Crafty and her pals and it was all good. The reality was quite different. I ended up with a couple of boys in my group and that changed everything. They weren't bad or rude boys ... it was worse ... they were typical nine year old boys.

The ride to the event wasn't too bad. I think they were lulling me into a false sense of security. Most of the kids read, drew pictures or chatted quietly among themselves during the hour and a half drive. When we arrived it was all business and the kids did great. After their performance we settled in to have lunch together ... and that's when things started to unravel!

They were subtle at first; a random tossed carrot, a stray fart sound and a few goofy faces, nothing too bad. I just chalked it up to letting off a little steam after being so nervous all morning but when we boarded the bus for the ride home everything escalated!

The same 30 or so kids who were quiet and calm on the ride in to the city erupted into a mad mob of lunatics! Paper was flying, kids were squealing and pencils were rolling down the aisle. The wee monsters were doing blow fish on the windows and flicking condensation from the windows on to their pals. An intergalactic war broke out on the seat next to me and behind me some kind of Booger Battle erupted. Kids were laughing, squealing, singing and chanting. It was chaos!

The straw that broke the camel's back ... or nose was when the space conflict was resolved and a fart contest began. That was it. That was more than I could take. Within seconds our whole section of the bus reeked! I don't know who was feeding what to those kids or what had crawled into them and died but the smell these two, sweet looking boys were able to conjure is the stuff chemicals weapons are made of! I spent the remainder of the drive breathing through a musty mitt I found in my coat pocket and it smelled like Heaven, comparatively.

The next time people complain about kids growing up too fast I am going to challenge them to an hour and a half bus ride with 30+ grade three and four student ... that should set them straight!

Everything is funny as long as it is happening to somebody else. ~Will Rogers

Hyperplanactivity Psychosis

When Dude was younger we had to have a daily plan. Every night before bed I had to change the 'to do' list on the fridge, flip the calendar over to the next day and outline everything that we had planned to fill the day. He needed to know what to expect, what was expected of him, each day. He had to mentally prepare himself and preplan his moves for the next day. If we genuinely had no plans for a day I had to make something up because Heaven forbid we had a day without a plan!


Back then I was not a 'have a plan' kind of person. I generally let things happen and just sort of made things up as I went along but for the sake of peace and harmony in our house I became good at planning. And now I need a plan. I really, truly need a plan. I need to know what comes next, what are the steps we need to take to achieve a goal, I need to line up the ducks and dot and cross everything. I need to know where I am headed and how I am getting there. Some say this obsessive need makes me intense but I like to think it make me organized.

This Hyperplanactivity tends to leave me feeling anxious or annoyed when I am working without a plan. I want to Git 'er Done (to quote the great philosopher, Larry the Cable Guy)! I want to know what’s happening next, prepare for it and make sure it all goes the way I see it. Control freak much?

Yuuup!

This past couple of weeks has been an extreme exercise in patience and trust. I have no plan, I know nothing and therefore I can make no plans. I don’t know when my surgery is, what recovery will be like and what, if any, treatment will follow. I have no control and so I have no plans. People ask me to do things, if they can help and what I’m doing next week, next month, next year and I have nothing to say. I shrug and mumble, “I dunno” like some moody teenager.

I’d like to say I’m weathering this new phase of my life like a champ, but I’m not. I’m cranky and irritated that I can’t make a plan and if I do try to make a plan I know that it really means nothing because I know nothing and I’m in charge of nothing!

Arg!

Clearly, I’m losing it.

And maybe that’s part of the journey. Maybe this is one of the lessons I need to learn along the way. Maybe I need to learn how to let go. Maybe I need to find a way of being okay with allowing someone else to make the plans, take charge and take care of things. Maybe I need to learn how to trust in a different way.

Maybe.

The course of life is unpredictable... no one can write his autobiography in advance.
~Abraham Joshua Heschel

Rude People Suck

Brace yourself ... this may be a little bit of a rant.

Rude people drive me nuts! I can't handle it when people choose to be rude and forceful instead of pausing for a moment to consider that they aren't the only people on the planet and that, perhaps, they should just cool it before spouting off and looking like a jerk. I don't get the self-centeredness that fuels some people and drives them to the point of madness. I mean, seriously, it can't be fun to be that tightly wound all the time, can it?

This rant is coming from a place of pent up irritation covered by a thin veil of politeness. We have encountered some incredibly rude people in the last few days and an email I recieved late last night just pushed me over the edge. Rudeness has always bothered me but lately I find this 'Me First' attitude completely ridiculous and I know that if I don't rant somewhere I will throw a public fit a la Steve Martin in Father of the Bride.

Anyway ...

Here's the thing, you don't need to start a fist fight at a parade because someone asks you not to stand in front of little kids, you don't need to send a nasty email because someone didn't respond to your first nasty email fast enough, you don't need to cut to the front of the line because your time is so much more important than everyone else's time, you don't need to haggle with and belittle someone who has provided a service for you at an already agreed upon price and for crying out loud you don't need to think about yourself all the time.

Look around ... there are other people on the planet!

Being nice matters. Kindness has eternal value. Treat others as you want to be treated. And rude people suck ... so don't be one!

Life is short but there is always time for courtesy. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, Social Aims

Lending Hope

I was sorting through some of our movies last week and I came across an old favourite, About a Boy. There are so many things to love about this flick but my favourite thing is the general message of togetherness.

I love watching Hugh Grant's character make the transition from feeling okay in his solitary life to embracing the truth that 'no man is an island.' I also agree with the perspective of the boy, "two people isn't enough. You need backup. If you're only two people, and someone drops off the edge, then you're on your own. Two isn't a large enough number."

Its true, two isn't enough, neither is three ... we need more; more than ourselves and our immediate family. More than just a handful, we need a gaggle. We need a gaggle of people on our side, cheering us up, cheering us on, lending their hope and joy and peace. We need to let other people in. Life is filled with weird and quirky characters and you are meant to experience them, let them in and become a friend-family ... or a family of friends.

This weekend I spent some time with friends and family. We made the trip home to my parents place and it was the first time since word got out about my Defective Boob that most of my family and friends had a chance to see me. To tell you the truth I felt a little bit like they were all coming for a viewing (and I'm not dead!) but once I got over myself I realised that they came, they showed up, to see me because I am not alone. I'm not an island.

While mingling with cousins and aunts and exchanging teases with uncles I basked in my not-aloneness. I accepted their words of love and encouragement no matter how eloquant or awkward they were said. I stored each kindness in my memory to save for a rainy day. I did the same through out the weekend as I hung out with friends, lunched with more family and lined the streets of my home town to watch the Santa Parade with my peeps.

Everywhere I went people willingly lent their hope, support and encouragement and I gladly borrowed it! I am doing great right now but I know as the days pass there will be times when running on my own steam will fail me. I know that I will face moments of fear, sadness and uncertainty and I know that if I was truly an island I would be washed away by the grief. But I''m not alone.

And for that I am grateful!

I am also grateful for every word of encouragement, every shared hope, every smile, note and hug that has come my way in the past week. Thank you for lending me your hope ... I promise to cherish it!


Every man is an island. I stand by that. But clearly some men are island CHAINS. Underneath, they are connected...
~Will from About a Boy

Remembering to Stand

This time of year is always a mixed bag of emotions for me and this year is no different. I feel pride, sadness, patriotism, grief and hope. I am overcome by the depth of sacrifice strangers are willing to make to protect freedom and ensure justice for people they will never know; I am amazed at how they can use words like duty and honour in the face of danger and death and I am humbled that they have given their all for me and my children and my children's children.

We have a strong connection to the military in our family. Mr. Awesome's dad and both grandfathers have served and my grandfather and uncle have also served and I have a cousin who is currently serving. I know the heartache and pride military families experience ... willingly. That's what gets to me. All the sacrifice, danger, injury and death is made willingly. They choose to put the greater good ahead of their own wants and needs. They choose to risk everything in hopes of bringing security and freedom to others. They choose to stand when running would be so much easier.

My grandfather rarely spoke of his time in the army; I only ever had one or two conversations with him about the actual experience of 'storming the beach'. His regiment was at Dieppe, they sailed across the English Channel in the predawn hours toward the unknown. Their hope was to launch a sneak attack, their reality was very different. Bad weather and poor communication had many of the men from my Papa's regiment, The South Saskatchewan Regiment, land on the wrong side of the river, increasing the risk to their safety and success.

His regiment was in France for less than 8 hours on August 19, 1942 but the losses they suffered were astronomical. They retreated in a chaos of bullets, explosions and cries of pain. Many of the wounded never made it off the beach despite the best efforts of the few in tact soldiers who made repeated trips between the beach and the boats, hauling as many wounded men as they could.

I asked my grandfather once how he did it, how he could keep moving, keep soldiering with bullets flying and death everywhere he looked. He didn't say anything for a long while and then he spoke.

"You just don't have a choice. Either you keep standing and moving forward or you die. I didn't want to die so I just kept moving." I find that more true these days then ever before ... either you choose to stand and keep moving forward or you choose to lay down and die. Putting it that way, its a no brainer.

Tomorrow, as our family gathers to remember all those who risked every thing, every time for freedom, justice and hope, I will think of my grandfather, standing on the beach of Dieppe. I will think of the raining artilery, the smell of death in the air and the sounds of war and fear filling his ears, I will think of him standing and moving forward. In the moment of silence tomorrow, I will think of how he made his choice to stand when there was anything but silence surrounding him ... and I will follow his lead. I will choose to stand and keep moving forward.

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. ~Ambrose Redmoon


For a full account of what the men of SSR faced that fateful day see An Exercise in Sacrifice