Two lessons in bad timing...

I am not a fan of transitions.

I shouldn’t complain about my 2 weeks vacation but the planning, the paperwork on both ends and the onslaught of “goodbyes” take a toll on me emotionally.  Yesterday I wrapped up everything at my family practice.  Today, I had the hard job of saying goodbye to my 4 patients at hospice.   When you leave your palliative end of life patients for 2 weeks the goodbye has a special poignancy to it.  I managed the first 3 tears free but broke down with the last one.  I wished, in that moment with them, that I wasn’t leaving for 2 weeks.  The brother graciously offered up the fact that “You wouldn’t be able to do what you do if you didn’t take a break now and then”.  I nodded in agreement, but the unspoken hung heavily in the air.  For this man, and this family, my vacation came at the wrong time.  After months of developing a deeply meaningful and trusting relationship, I was leaving at a crucial time.  As I’ve explained to my quizzical husband on many occasions, “It’s like teaching grade 8 all year but not showing up for Grade 8 Graduation.”

And so I left hospice today with a heavy heart and did what always makes me feel better - - I went to find my family.

I had heard the plan at breakfast that morning – they were off to the lake to paint the tree house that they were building together this summer.  What better way to kick of a 2-week vacation than a good bike ride out to the lake to surprise them? 

Keen as they had been this morning it was evident that the day was not going as planned.  The tree house was full of half painted fence rails with open paint tins and brushes scattered across the floor.   Rob was down by the water working on a zipline and the kids were up at the house alone.   Apparently none of them were ACTUALLY all that keen on painting after all. Without officially announcing my arrival, I peeled off my sweaty bike gear and set to work.   Painting the rungs of the tree house, up in a tree and all by myself was meditative and quiet and just what I needed.  Off in the distance I could hear the familiar tussles of sibling disagreements with the occasional harsh word and yell from Toby from up at the house, but I kept painting, knowing that soon enough I would be a welcomed part of whatever disagreement they were having.

After a brief time the shouts and noises grew closer and soon my hideaway was discovered,

“Hi, Mom” they said, excited to see me, “Whatcha doing…??”

I handed them each a paintbrush and told them to join me.  We could paint together.

It was a combination of a Tom Sawyer and a Von Trapp moment.  Neither of them dared refuse as they were relishing the opportunity to hang out with me but I don’t think either of them REALLY wanted to be painting.  So I tried to engage them in conversation.

“So…. what were you guys doing up at the house?” I asked innocently, pretending I hadn’t heard the screaming and yelling

“Oh,” said Toby earnestly, “We were busy building a FORT together!”

“Ah…” I said, “I see.”

 “Why?” he asked, “What did you THINK we were doing?”

“Oh, nothing” I said, painting away, “I just thought I heard some fighting that’s all”

“Oh…right…” Toby said.  “Well….there WAS this ONE moment…when we were building the fort and I couldn’t get one of the pillows to stand up straight and I kept trying and trying and it kept falling over and I was VERY FRUSTRATED and Mia just BURST OUT LAUGHING at me and that made me REALLY ANGRY”

I was about to sympathize with him when a paint covered Mia piped up from the other side of the tree house,

“Oh, Toby…” she said, “I wasn’t LAUGHING at you I was just LAUGHING at something FUNNY that came into my head a that moment.”

RIIIIIIIIIIGHT.

I didn't buy it for a second.  But our Toby is equal parts trusting and naïve,

“Really?” he asked Mia with complete honesty, “What was is that was so funny?’

BUSTED.

Mia didn’t skip a beat.  She dipped her paint brush in and turned her back to us to paint a rung of the railing and launched into a slow but confident tale,

“Well….you see….FIRST I was thinking about going down a WATERSLIDE….” She hesitated for a bit as she painted, “And THEN I got to thinking that maybe at the END of the water slide I would do a fancy DIVE off of it….but I didn’t.  Instead I imagined that I had done a GIANT BELLY FLOP.  And that made m LAUGH out LOUD.”

“Oh,” Said Toby a bit surprised, “Yes that DOES sound funny.”

“Yes,” Mia replied smugly, “You see Toby it was just REALLY bad timing."

Ahhh…the dichotomous bookends of my life…If today had been a Sesame Street Episode it would have been brought to you by the phrase “BAD TIMING”.

And just like that….I was on summer vacation.

The Unpainted treehouse

Always worth the uphill bike...

                                               And finally...a video of Rob's finished Zipline!!!

Grieving in Pieces

I am grieving in pieces.

During my final months of pregnancy I was prone to Braxton hicks contractions.  Sometimes they were so strong I felt I was actually in labour-  only to be later disappointed when they petered out.  Other times, I was so uncomfortable I would miss out on precious hours of sleep.  It seemed so futile and unnecessary to go through pain, sleeplessness and hopefulness for a seemingly pointless outcome.  I rationalized to myself (and now continue to use this rationalization with friends and patients who suffer the same existential Braxton hicks crises) that the painful hours I put in were benefiting my cervix and somehow shortening my TRUE labour.   I took solace in knowing that this pre-emptive discomfort would shave time off the discomfort during labour. 

I feel the same way about my grief.

Alzheimer’s has robbed my dad of almost all of what he was both physically and mentally.  He can hardly walk, he has lost over 50 pounds and he can’t read or write or even carry on a conversation.   The strong, witty, intellectual athlete that he was is all but depleted.  What we have at this moment is a kind, sweet, loving dad who longs for companionship but no longer has the skills or capabilities to engage in meaningful relationships.

I still have my dad.  I still have his love and his recognition.  For that I am eternally grateful.

 But I’m grieving in pieces.

Yesterday, driving into Collingwood from our old stomping ground at Brewster Lake, Toby and I came to the crest of a high hill.  A hill which, years ago, we used to take regularly into town.   A hill upon which, regularly, my dad reiterated the same predictable line to us on, “WOAH!!! Wow!  Look at the view!  WOW!!! Look at this HILL!!!” It was always a mixture of awe at the view and terror for his life.  He would CLING to the door handle as if his life depended on it, forgetting that he had driven over this same crest of the hill hundreds of times before and somehow, miraculously survived.

I had forgotten about this hill and was suddenly hit by a throat-choking sob.

“What, Mom?” Toby asked perceptively,

“Oh, your Grandpa Boyd used to LOVE this hill.  Remember how he would always remark about how high it was and how beautiful the view was and then ask us when the heck we were moving back to Toronto?”

Toby laughed as we reminisced and I forced myself to smile and continue with feigned casualty as I rationalized with my sadness that I was “keeping his memory alive”

That’s when it hit me how odd it was.  To keep someone’s memory alive when they still, in fact, are.   I was then gobsmacked and guilted by the confusion of that thought.  He wasn’t gone, yet!   But he wasn’t him anymore.  Why had I forgotten that?  Was it right to even think like this?  

Moments like this happen all of the time.  A memory, a sadness, a thought and then confusion compounded with grief.  Sometimes I long for this to be simpler.  Some days I just want to grieve.  What a terrible thing to write for the obvious implications.

Living the Alzheimer’s decline means that we grieve in pieces, with little repireves in between.   We have moments of grief and longing when we notice how much of him is missing.  We have moments of joy when we walk into his room and see that spark of love and recognition in his eyes.  And we have these conflicts of guilt when we are living in one emotion and not the other.   I guess all there is to do is to hope for more moments of joy and that each "Braxton hicks" of grief that we feel now will somehow lessen the inevitable blow that is yet to come.

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Nein Danke

Dearest Toby,

Today you are nine.

Nine.

NEIN!!!! 

Nine  - Danke! Might make you think I'm saying “Thanks for a Great 9 years” …but it ALSO means NO THANK you in German.  I think BOTH are appropriate right now.

Lets start with the positive -- Thanks for 9 great years!  How thankful I am that 9 years ago you made me a mother; you changed my life forever, teaching me lessons I never knew before about true love and true fear.  While I had selfishly spent the first 30 years of my life focusing on me and med school and marrying daddy and making friends and buying a home, suddenly you threw yourself into the direct flight path of my life, announcing, “AHA!  Here I am!  Something that means more to you than anything you have ever encountered before!” As my love for you exploded exponentially those first few days I grew to realize that the track of success I felt my life might be on could suddenly be derailed instantaneously by anything ever happening to you.

And, just to drive home the point, you gave me a brief taste of what that terror might feel like when you were 10 months old and tried to die on us.

Thanks again for that, Toby.  You have always been quite fastidious about driving your point home.

So sure…I could look back and say, “Nein, Danke” to all of that.  But I won’t. Because it brought you to me and me to you.  And it brought us all to where we are right now…which…ahem…. is where I’d like to put a halt on things....

NEIN DANKE to this sudden desire to grow your hair like a teenager, half covering your eyes (and the other half miraculously defying gravity with the interestingly placed cow-licks brought to you, lovingly, from your Henry family…)

NEIN DANKE to this new phase of showering and dressing yourself without my input.  For goodness sakes, you don’t even seem to need me in the change room after hockey practice but prefer that I wait for you “outside with the other parents” while you change yourself.

TOBY HENRY…might I remind you that up until a year ago you could not pick out your own SOCKS without your mother’s help!  You gotta rip the band-aid off slowly, buddy…

NEIN DANKE to sleep overs.  I know you PRETEND to be old enough and big enough to be able to fall asleep without our good night snuggles and without needing to see me for 12 hours in a row…. It all seems quite unnatural and uncomfortable for ME so I can only imagine how hard it must be for you…

And NEIN DANKE to all these new technological things you have become so fantastic at.  You were on a select Robotics team this year and exceled beyond your parents wildest expectations.  I thought robotics was a club that built robots (Duh) but as it turns out you somehow have learned to code and create programs that move robots and command them to do things.  It’s a scary skill set that goes beyond mine and has me worried that one day my coffee maker is going to start revolting and making YOU chocolate milk in the morning.

And Nein Danke to your height.  And you adult teeth. And your mature laugh and sense of humour.  It is a both a gift and a bit of torture to see so vividly the wonderfully, smart, compassionate, funny, earnest and intelligent man you are becoming.  Wonderful, because I am eternally proud.  Devastating to know that the days of you depending on me are quickly fading into the past.  Next year we reach double digits (nein danke) and although I can’t wait to see the incredible person you evolve into as each year passes, I wish I could always keep you young and innocent and my sweet little Toby.

Nine!!!!  Danke, Toby…for being Nine and for being Mine.  I’ll enjoy it all while I can!

Xo Mommy

Valentine’s Day predictabilities…with a twist

What do you get when you cross an uber creative and prolific artist with a caring, kind and empathetic heart? 

A Valentine’s Day enthusiast.

What do you get when you cross a practical, sensitive, and often anxious little boy with a purely mathermatical mind that finds artwork stressful?

A Valentine’s Day Grinch.

But public school is unforgiving.  You are not given the choice of whether or not to participate in your class’s upcoming Valentine’s Day exchange.  Oh no…there’s nothing meaningful or spontaneous in today’s approach to Valentine’s Day.  Instead parents are now sent a pre-emptive text containing each and every kid’s name in the class as well as instructions on what to bring for snack that day.

I had no choice but to engage in the daunting task of helping each of my diversely opposite children to channel their inner selves into the spirit of Valentine’s Day.

Where does one turn for such an undertaking?

Dollarama.

I got a stack of blank foam hearts, stickers, markers and pipe cleaners (??) for Mia and Dollar store pre-done Valentine’s cards (with puns on the front) for Toby.   They even had the TO and FROM part done.  All he had to do was fill in TWO NAMES (one of which was his own).

On Saturday morning we set to work.

Mia took right to it.  She insisted on individualizing each heart for her friends and carefully selected the colour scheme and personalized stickers that would be “just right” for each one.  She even remembered some of her friends in other classes, her teachers, and her bus driver…. it went on and on.  She never wavered.  Mia was BORN for Valentine’s Day crafting.

Toby, on the other hand. ...

At first he got a good chuckle out of the humorous cards.  “I hippo you’ll be my Valentine” with a hippopotamus on the front and “You MOOOO-ve me, Valentine” with a Cow on the front seemed pretty innocuous to me.  Except if you’re analytical and slightly prone to overthinking things.  Then it creates a wee bit of a problem.

“I don’t get it.” Toby said  “Do I actually REALLY have to want someone to be my Valentine if I give them one that says I Hippo that they will be my Valentine?”

This is where my efforts to instil gender equality have backfired.  Where once I could have suggested he just give the (?overly suggestive) hippo card to one of the boys in his class, this suggestion was now met with an incredulous look, an eye roll and a headband onto his desk.  Unbeknownst to me, Toby’s benign Hippo message could be misinterpreted by both male AND female students in his class.  According to my accurate over thinker, of course.

The most DIFFICULT of cards turned out to be the unabashed MERMAID card that had a beautiful mermaid on the front with the very forward message, “I LOVE YOU, VALENTINE” on it.

Toby almost fell off his stool when he read it.  (And I thought we had a problem with the Hippo one….)

“Ooh, TOBY!” his unhelpful sister exclaimed as she picked the card up off of the floor, “Who are you going to give THIS one to?”

“NO ONE!” Toby said with his head still in his arms.  “NO one.”

“But she’s so pretty!” Mia lamented, saddened by this pointless waste of such a beautiful card.

I grabbed it out of her hands before she could make her anxious brother even more of a wreck.

“It’s OK, Toby” I reassured him, “this is why I bought you TWO packages – you don’t have to use them all!”  I gave myself a secret pat on the back for forking out the extra $2 for the second pack at the dollar store.  Do I know my child or do I know my child?

You would think that writing the recipients name and his own name on 20 cards would be EASY, but his sister, who handmade each and every card herself, was finished hours before him and was off playing with her friends while Toby sat there wondering if his friend Liam or Ryan would find the “Have a Doggone Good Valentine’s Day” card (with the…you got it…dog on the front) funnier.

I can happily report that eventually, both children completed the daunting task of Valentine’s card making and as they headed off to school today, their backpacks heavy with the appropriate number of classroom Valentine’s cards to be delivered, I heaved a sigh of relief knowing that another year had gone by without blowing my cover of being a sub par parent. 

Now, as you can gather from this post, I am not one for Hallmark occasions.  I take no joy in obligatory celebrations that are merely a make work project for us overtired parents.  But I will admit to one thing that I learned this year….

Hidden at the bottom of their neatly stacked mommy enforced school Valentine’s cards, I found something that changed my mind.

At the bottom of Mia’s cards, I found the piece of heart shaped cardboard that was part of the foam hearts packaging.  On it she had attached a few modestly placed stickers and had written, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mia, Love Toby xoxo”.  When I asked her about this she said quite matter-of-factly “Well, I know Toby doesn’t love to make Valentine’s cards so I thought I’d just make one for myself so he doesn’t have to.”

And at the bottom of Toby’s pile?

You got it.  The Mermaid Valentine.

To: Mia

From: Toby

He is a man of few words.  But he isn’t afraid to show that when it comes right down to it, the only girl he truly loves is his little sister.

So there you have it.  Right in the midst of our busy lives, of my complaints about the phoniness of red pink and white day, at a time when I was least expecting or looking for it…I found two acts of true love that made my heart stop.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Everyone.

Miss Mia Turns 6!

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 Dearest Mia,

On the day after your 6^th birthday I find I know not what to write. This won’t come as a TOTAL shock seeing as I have had writer’s block for close to a year now…but also because it is hard to capture the essence of you on paper.  You are so much bigger than that... You have a spirit and a humour that transcends words and blog entries and I know I won’t be able to do you justice.

Every morning, I have the gift of waking up to you.  The militaristic timing of it at precisely 7:01 is NOT the most joyous part of it, but being greeted by your enthusiastic and excited approach to the day is something I know I will look back on and miss in years to come.  You are a morning person just like your daddy.  As soon as your little eyes open they FILL with excitement for what looms ahead and the minute your clock turns to 7 I hear you skipping down the hall to share the exciting news with me, “MOMMY!  Its MORNING!”  I am so glad I get to be the one with whom you share your JOY ever y morning.

For your birthday this year, Care bought you a GLITTERY shirt that says JOY.  It is just PERFECT for you.  You are pure JOY.  You are my YES girl.  You are an Optimist.  You LOVE life and yes, you still insist that the only proper way to kiss is SMACK DAB on the lips.   Earlier this year you and Toby got a bad case of a stomach bug that had you up all night (you even insisted on sleeping on the bathroom floor).  I told you that there was NO LIP KISSING allowed for 14 days.  It was as if I’d taken away chocolate.  You were immediately on the countdown and regularly announced (Loudly, and often in public.)  “THREE MORE SLEEPS UNTIL WE CAN KISS ON THE LIPS AGAIN!!!!”  I am quite surprised that CAS has not been in touch, yet….

This year you have loved school and learned to read and write.  You regularly leave me love notes and sometimes even write them for Jack Jack, too.  Your reading is incredible and

you have shown that the “Lets just try this and see how it goes” approach to anything unknown really does work well!

Your other love is that of traveling.  When we were in Paris this summer you spent a LOOONG time picking out your souvenir and finally chose a sparkly shirt with the Eiffel Tower on it.  You have INSISTED on wearing it almost DAILY.   Being a mom sometimes entails making up rules that you didn’t realize NEEDED to be made up.  I have had to add to the list of  “Don’t touch your poo” or “Don’t put your toys in the toilet”  a new rule : “You can’t wear the same shirt 3 days in a row”.  You still fight me on it all the time but I think your kindergarten teachers are glad that it now exists.

Just as I love my mornings with you, I also enjoy our nightly chats and snuggles.  You DO like your sleep and there is NO keeping you up past your bedtime if you are tired.  After particularly exhausting days in kindergarten you have been known to slip away from the dinner table only to return a few minutes later dressed in your pyjamas.  You've also done that at parties and on Christmas eve.  Although probably not the pinnacle of polite hosting moves, it certainly gets the message across : You're ready for bed.

Lately, you have been asking me about your bedtime lullaby.  I used to sing you the song "The Water is Wide" when you were just a baby.  I don't know when or how we got out of the habit of me serenading you to sleep but somehow it got replaced by SK gossip or nightly debriefing of Junie B. Jones' latest antic.  I was appalled to realize the other night that I had COMPLETELY forgotten the words.  But I did my homework.  And in preparation for your birthday this year, I relearned them and sang them to you again last night, for the first time in a long time.

Here it is :

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The water is wide, I can’t cross o'er
and Neither have I wings to fly
Give me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row my love and I

There is a ship and she sails the sea
She's loaded deep, as deep can be
But not as deep as the love I'm in
I know not if I sink or swim

Oh, love is gentle, and love is kind
The sweetest flower when first it's new
But love grows old and waxes cold
And fades away like the mornin' dew

The water is wide, I cannot get o'er
Neither have I the wings to fly
Give me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row my love and I

I chose this song for you, six years ago, as I watched you peacefully breastfeeding one night.   As I rocked you in the quiet solitude of the night I heard over and over again the line "For love is gentle and love is kind".    It fit that moment and the depth of my love I felt for you just perfectly.

My great hope in life, Mia, is that we will always share that gentle, kind love that wakes me up every morning and snuggles and laughs you to sleep every night.

Happy Birthday, sweet Mia.  You are loved and we are so blessed to call you ours.

xoxo Mommy

Our European Vacation in Numbers : A la Randy Gangbar!

 # of Hours it took to reach destination : 20

# of Hours Mia slept on the 7 hour plane ride : 6.5

# Hours Daddy slept on 7 hour plane ride : 6

# Hours Toby slept on 7 hour plane ride : 0.4

# Hours Mommy slept on 7 hour plane ride : 0  (too excited)

# of minutes we had to get from the airplane, through customs, pick up our luggage and board the train to Aix-En-Provence : 75

# on Mommy’s anxiety scale out of 10 : 9.5

# of Espresso coffee’s Mommy mistakenly ordered before boarding the train : 3

# of Pain au Chocolat consumed on train ride : 3

# of days Mia went without Pain au Chocolat for breakfast while in France : 0

Mia quickly adapted to the French Breakfast

# of bedrooms in the Villa we rented : 4

# of different activities for kids : 6

# of Guests we had visit us in the South of France : 5

# of bottles of wine Belinda brought :  12

# of Hours it took Rob and Toby to get to the Semi Final game of the Euro 2016 : 4

# of goals by Griezeman they witnessed : 2

# of terrorist attacks that occurred at the game : 0 (PHEW!)

Time Toby got home that night : 2am (!!)

# of times we held “the Olympics” in the South of France : 2

# of times Toby made it to the  finals of Ping Pong : 2

# of Times Toby won the finals : 0

# of times Sav engaged in Ping Pong : 0

# of events other than ping pong : 8

Toby : slightly obsessed and quite good at Ping Pong

# of items on our “Scavenger Hunt” Through the surrounding small towns : 11

# of actual cats spied on the hunt :  5

# of one eyed cats spotted  : 1

# of hours Rob spent rummaging through the pool shed : 1

# of inflatable pool toys Rob discovered :  10

# of inflatable pool toys Rob discovered that did NOT have a hole in them : 0

# of Rainbow flutterboards found in the pool shed : 2

Jeremy, participating in the High Jump at Olympics #2

# of Rats that jumped out of the pool shed and scared the shit out of Rob : 1

# of times Rob approached the pool shed again after the rat incident : 0

# of hours Doug spent working : >14

# of hours Doug spent sleeping : >36

# of times Doug spoke with a German Accent : 29

# of  people Doug shared his bed with : 2
# of times Doug has read my blog and probability of him getting upset with me for posting this : 0

Mia, going to wake Doug up one day at NOON when she got TIRED of waiting for him!

# of bug bites on Savita’s left leg : 12

# of Naps Savita was allowed to take : 0

# of times Toby cried after our friends left : 2

                                                                                      

# of daytrips taken to surrounding towns : 3

            (Aix en Provence, Cassis and St Croix)

# of different hats Mia sported on the trip  :4

Mia, in Cassis, sporting one of her many hats (this one being MINE!)

PARIS :

# of full days we spent in Paris  :1 (but we were there over 3!)

# of times the kids had crepes : 2

# of sites/monuments we saw : 9

# of steps we walked  : 26,000

# of flights of stairs we climbed  :63

Someone pooched out on the train after a LOOONG day on her feet!

# of stairs we climbed at the Arch de Triomphe : 187

Family Selfie atop the Arch de Triomphe

# of strollers we used : 0

# of strollers we decided to leave behind : 1

Good Bye Stroller!  You are not needed by this family anymore :)

LONDON:

# of hours we spent waiting to get on the Double Decker Bus Tour I talked Rob into going on : 1

# of times I was frustrated by GRIDLOCK TRAFFIC while riding the double decker bus Tour : 9

# of times we aborted the tour and decided just to walk : 1

# of times we had trouble then finding the bus stop to get back on it :2

# of times we almost missed the very last bus : 1

# of times we were in a bus accident on the double decker bus : 1

# of pints consumed (read : CHUGGED) while waiting for replacement bus : 2 (plus one Fanta by Toby who didn’t understand that when I said CHUG YOUR BEER! I did NOT mean CHUG YOUR FANTA!)

# of bus tours in our future : 0

# of University reunions attended :1

# of hours the reunion lasted : 12

# of friends who attended : 11

# of friends from Canada : 8

# of UK friends : 3

# of awkward Brexit debates : 1

# of discussions around The Babysitter’s Club : 8 (not quite as awkward as the Brexit discussion but POSSIBLY not as intellectually stimulating…)

Doug : Enjoying his first crack at The Babysitters Club

# of times James spilled red wine on himself : 1

# of photos taken at the photo booth : 24

# of secret notes left between Keira/Madison and Mia/Toby : 3

# of  times I have smiled thinking about how amazing it is to see the instantaneous friendship my good friend’s children and mine : hundreds

Mia, Keira and Madison : "Just how" we predicted they would turn out many years ago over a drink at Perfect House :) (??)

IN SUMMARY :

# of consecutive days Mia had chocolate and bread for breakfast : 10

# of countries visited : 2

# of friends we reunited with  : 16

# of pictures taken : 950

# of hours spentwaiting for our suitcases at Good Old Pearson Airport : 1.5

# of times I have felt gratitude and love for my 3 traveling and life companions : millions

Thankful.