Those Eyes

 My parents were up for a visit to commemorate the surplus of Pisces in our immediate family.  After a lovely weekend of celebrations we were met with the unfortunate reality of Monday morning and all that ensues.  Getting both kids to their respective schools as well as both parents to work on time is a daunting task at the best of times; when you throw two grandparents into the mix it ads an added layer of helpfulness AND chaos.

Today’s craziness had the surprise component of my father's early wake up.  So amidst the lunch making, backpack-packing, last minute book reading, teeth brushing, breakfast eating, and snow pant adorning, we had to take turns running upstairs to reassure my dad of where he was, what he was doing and where we all were. 

The system, though somewhat inefficient, was working.  We were making progress.

At one point I had run upstairs to get a hairbrush (yes, the infamous hair brush) when I saw my dad sitting on his bed with his top half dressed, and his bottom half 90% done with the exception of his pants that were pulled up just above his knees.

He was sitting there very still, cane in hand, staring at the wall.

“Dad?”  I asked cautiously,  “what are you doing…??”

“Oh, Lyssie GOOD.” He said with a sigh of relief, “Come help me.  I can’t remember how to put my pants on.”

He looked up at me with a mix of helplessness and relief in his eyes.

Oh, those eyes…that once read Ulysses and The Great Code and everything every written by Plato.   That have seen the inside of all of the great art galleries, museums and churches throughout Europe.

That ravenously soaked up every lecture given by Northrop Frye at the University of Toronto and experienced life in the halls and dormitories of Cambridge University.

Those eyes, that once chased pucks and players on the frozen outdoor rinks of Cortina, Italy, and later meticulously scrutinized novice hockey players (Gretzky included) from across Ontario.   

Those eyes now begged me to help him.   

“Sure, Dad” I said as I scooped my arm under his shoulder, “Let me hoist you up and it’ll make things easier.”

We got him up and I pulled his pants on for him, buttoning them up quickly before he landed back on the bed.

“There you go – easy!  You’re all dressed.”

“So I am!” he said joyfully.

And with a quick kiss on the cheek and a reminder that his beloved wife was downstairs, it was back to the rush for me.  Pushing away the sadness of this moment, I was left with one single thought of comfort: for today, at least, those eyes still know who I am.

And Now you are 7

Your dramatic Tap Dancing pose...

And now you are 7

You’ve waiting a long time, 7 years precisely, to be the age that is your favourite number. And finally the long wait is here.  No doubt you will bound out of bed at 7:00 to announce to us and the world that NOW you are SEVEN.

OR perhaps you won’t. Because, lets face it kid, you’re not exactly a morning person. Most mornings you roll out of bed around 7:30 all scraggly haired and dopey eyed, refusing to even DISCUSS breakfast options until you’ve had at least a few moments of silent sitting, taking the day in until you are ready to join in and be a part of it.

This has always been your approach to life, Toby. You observe first, and act later.  I have to say, the world would be a better place if more people (myself included) adopted this philosophy…

The one exception to your wake up ritual is on Mondays and Wednesdays when your little sister has to go to daycare and is rushed out of the house by 7:15.  You usually make a very VERY groggy appearance, sometimes with your pants or shirt on backwards or inside out.  But you make the effort to be there if only for that split second before she goes out the door, so you can send her off on her day with a morning hug.  You understand the full importance of your morning hug; on mornings when you don’t make it down in time, I am faced with a groggy, dopey eyed, scraggly haired and often CRYING Toby.

Yes, that’s right, you cry.  I hear your rushing down the stairs frantically and then quite literally see your heart breaking when you realize she has already been whisked off before you got to give her a goodbye hug.   The love you have for your little sister, and she for you, is another thing you’ve taught me.  I thought only a parent’s love ran that deep; yours and Mia’s is a pretty close second.

By the time we get to the car ride to school you are your usual chatty self, managing to fill the entire 6-minute drive (YOU timed it) with a vast array of conversation topics. 

My absolute favourite came about last week.   I had been awarded all of 10 seconds of silence when you suddenly heaved a great, dramatic SIGH from the back seat and announced to me that you were “The happiest you have ever been in your entire life.”

You might not understand this until you have kids of your own, Toby, but there is absolutely NOTHING better to hear as a parent.  The suddenness and earnestness of your statement choked me up and it took me a second to regain my composure in order to ask you more details about this sudden burst of euphoria.

“OH, I don’t know,” you said casually, “Maybe I’m just excited for my birthday….”

Maybe you were. But maybe also it’s also because you DO have a pretty sweet life right now.

Go #7, Go!

You excel at SO many things; sports, reading, math and tap dancing just to name a few.  And then there are your random skills like your incredible ability to read sports stats in the newspaper and replicate sports stats “just for fun” (How weird is that??)  Or your keen interest in geography and your crazy knowledge of every country’s flag that is on your flag placement.  (Which is about 88…and, I dare say, a ludicrous number of flags to know by heart at your age!)

You have a great capacity to love.  You love Zack and are often the only one in the family to give him the attention he deserves each day.  You love your friends and care deeply and with great concern when they are away sick from school or get into trouble…and you love your family.  You say this each and every night when you wake up and insist on hugging us all before we part for the day.  You express this at dinner each night with your heart felt graces imploring the world to always keep us together.  And you say this at bedtime with your intimate chats and good night snuggles.

You may not love Arts and Crafts but you love Valentines day

How can you NOT be anything but completely happy when you exude so much love to the rest of the world?  I read something fitting for this the other day : “Happiness is like jam.  You can’t spread even a little without getting some on yourself”.

That quote is perfect for MORE than one reason.  But it’s your birthday so I won’t even MENTION your incredible ability to be the MESSIEST EATER I HAVE EVER MET.

You’re an old soul, Toby.  Your methodical and thoughtful approach to each day and each new situation has taught even your old mom a valuable new skill.  You know what’s important in life – morning hugs, friendship, kindness and meaningful conversations.  But most of all, you find meaning, joy and opportunities for growth in everything you do.  I have learned so much from you in our 7 years together; I’m a lucky mommy to have you as my boy.  I can’t wait to see where you are in 7 more…

Love and hugs today and always

XO  x99

(Guess who taught me THAT trick??)

Your birthday morning at breakfast...not so bleary eyed today! Amazing what presents and muffins can do...