The Box: Holiday Memories Day 1

I have decided after my perfect day at home to begin a nightly countdown to one of my favorite times of the year. Tonight I will tell the tale of my Grandma Early's Christmas box.

Every year (EVERY YEAR), my 15 months younger brother and I would resist sleep, pace the basement, throw up and then spend Christmas day passed out on the couch, ill,  because we were so excited.

But NOTHING could keep us from Grandma's house. Down we would go with little Jeffy and we would await our Christmas box. We knew there was one gift for us each. One GIANT gift. For the Earlys have always been known for having a lot of fun with Christmas. My Dad believes that Christmas is for toys, not for practicality. That being said...my parents did NOT approve of early risers on Christmas morning...but that story will be for another day.

The box though...was no ordinary box. Grandma would plunk it down in front of our eager, just vomited faces and we would begin the tearing and clawing of rabid animals after a prized meal....even though the smell of the pancakes cooking didn't help our over-excited stomachs. Inside, was a mound of newspaper. You see, Grandma wrapped all of our gifts in one box. Each gift was individually wrapped in newspaper. I remember unwrapping a black remote. Then a black Porche car. I couldn't believe it! I thought that for SURE my Grandma had given me my brother's gift! I was so excited to have a remote control Por-Shay as I affectionately called it (and no one thought to correct me). The world stopped for a few minutes. I remember nothing of the day after that moment. Just that I had a black Porshay car all of my own. But in that moment I remember every detail. I remember the pyjamas I wore. I remember Grandma's pink easy chair. The brown carpet. The sun coming through the large patio doors into the living room. The newspaper everywhere.

I have now grown out of puking every Christmas. I enjoy my sleep much more these days. I wonder if Grandma would have enjoyed giving 'the box' to what would now be 3 great grandchildren. I smile as I remember times past and as I imagine times to come. Kennedy is getting her Maplelea doll this Christmas and I can't wait to see her face. I hope she remembers the smell of the Christmas scentsy (according to Rory, this is quite sacred.."I PUT OUT THE CHRISTMAS SCENTSY" he claimed as he ceremoniously placed it on a shelf). I hope she remembers her grandparents next door coming over for pancakes. I hope she remembers every Christmas for the friends, family and well wishes for the years to come. I hope she doesn't puke with excitement.

But really...I won't put it past her brother...

The Rink

I always said we would NEVER put our kids in minor hockey.

My words taste not bad.

Some of my best memories are of the rink. My skates were of the figure skating variety, but I don't think that makes any difference. Although when I offered to come out and help at hockey, Rory DID laugh. Apparently Moms in figure skates, no matter how well they can move their feet out there, are not cool.

AND...MY BIGGEST PET PEEVE IS "GIRL'S SKATES and BOY'S SKATES" so don't EVER refer to them as such in front of me.

ANYWAY..back to my thoughts.

I pull into the rink parking lot, I follow Rory in, I help him put on his hockey equipment and I curl up in a chair to visit with anyone else or I grab a cup of hot chocolate. I visit with Kennedy or I wave at the Rory Crosby on the ice. I am in my happy place. So is Rory.

My parents created me and molded me into the person that I am ...but the rink built me. The man I married...the curling, the skating, the carnivals...the friends...the determination...the disappointments...the scars...came largely from the rink.

I have a massive scar on my knee from the day I fell on Austin's natural ice during melting time. I was electrocuted alongside my best friend when we tried to play music on the same melting ice. This still makes me laugh.

I had my first 'real' kiss at the rink.

Junior High and High School drama class was at the rink.

I met the ice caretaker one year. We started curling together after he quit at the rink.

I married him. Although I am pretty sure he almost dated the aforementioned best friend. She never did like cows so I guess it worked out.

I still rate songs on the radio as, "If I were in Stars on Ice, this is what i would skate to" I still think the song "Higher" would be perfect...even though I can no longer tell you who sings it.

Once, we were the Beatles on Ice.

How the years go by. I am so grateful for our small town ice surface and all of the wonderful memories I have from the rink. I watch with pride as Rory makes new friends and is able to move and express himself in a way that makes sense to him. I can't imagine being a snowbird because winter is a part of me. It is a part of us.


See ya at the rink !

A+

I am feeling a tad cranky today. There is something nagging at me. It has been bothering me for quite some time and I am sure my teacher friends will disagree, but I just need to tell you anyway.

Teachers complain too much about report cards.

Okay okay. I am a teacher. AND I DO think the new report card is slightly over the top. AND I do not hold that every teacher is to blame for my crankiness. But I have noticed a trend that I believe I can offer a solution to.

Get some kids.

The ones that live in your home.

24/7.

Life somehow takes on a whole new perspective when you have little creatures in your house....or maybe it is that I am getting old. Truthfully...I am worried about these new teachers who have taken report cards to a whole new level of sleepless nights, long hours in front of the computer and a lack of personal life. You will get it done. Believe me. It should not be at the expense of your loved ones and your own sanity. Your health matters.

I think what bothers me is that I don't see any of my doctor friends (because I have literally THOUSANDS of doctor friends) posting on facebook that they were up all night long helping a Mom give birth. Steve doesn't post every day about the HOURS upon HOURS (and HOURS) he spends harvesting food for the world. The caretaker at my school did not post on facebook that he cleaned up vomit today. Know why? Because they know it is part of the job. I choose to smile and be so very thankful for a job I love for all of its pitfalls and celebrations. I choose to get 'r done. Lousy days happen. So what. You have 2 more report cards sessions to get through. Is it the ONLY thing going on in your life? If so...get some perspective.

Tonight, I played Trouble with my kids.

I may do some report cards now.

It is so awful. Feel sorry for me? Of course not! You have a busy life too and a job that keeps you hoppin'. So cheers to whatever you do to help make this world go 'round.

Teachers do work incredibly hard. They walk a crazy blurred line between work life and school life. They take hours of work home every night... But we CHOSE this lifestyle. No one wants to hear us complain about the choices WE made. Report card stress = first world problem.

And if you want to borrow some perspective...I can rent mine out for a few hours....delivery, sauciness, hockey practice, dance parties and lunch making included.

The iKid

Someday we are going to fight a lot. A LOT. But most days I can appreciate the strong willed, independent nature of my daughter.

My Grandma said today that no wonder Rory is so free spirited...I have been raising my kids to explore and be be adventurous and to be....free spirited...

Um...so I am a bad parent?

She assures me I am not, but that I am always much too worried about being one.

Tonight I got a text. I opened up my phone to see it was from DeDe McGee. There is a voice mail attached. So clever she is to have figured out that she can just record herself and send it instead of texting. 

She begins by explaining that Rory really wanted her to read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I know that this REALLY means that Kennedy just wanted to play on the iPad because that is where the book is. She goes on to say that since they were reading it without me (because we have been reading it together), she would just tell me everything that happened in the chapter they had just read. She then decides that maybe she should just READ me the chapter (this is all decided in her very long voice message). She then proceeds to read.

"Rory..LET....GO"...keeps on reading....."LET GO!!!!" ..... keeps on reading....in the background I hear..."KENNEDY LET ME HAVE IT!!!"  fumble, rustling, mumbling...keeps on reading.

And then I get this text after the voice message:

"Sorry about that Mom, Rory thought he should have the iPad, but I explained to him that you needed to know what was going on in the story for when you come home."

Wow. Defending the iPad from a perilous journey into the room of Rory, keeping me up to date on Mr. Wonka, AND a typical bedtime routine despite miles between us. Guess my free spirited children aren't turning out so badly after all. What a wonderful way to end my trip to Winnipeg. I can't wait for morning to see them and hear all about those silly little "Oompa Loompa's" in chapter who knows what.

This is Rory.

So Rory, What did the principal say to you today?
I dunno
Oh good, I am sure he will be happy to tell you again tomorrow. I will let him know you have forgotten.
Oh. Actually.....
And Mom...he likes the Leafs....he has Leafs stuff in his office.
You aren't supposed to be in his office. Tomorrow is a fresh start. Please let it be filled with good choices.
I love you anyways Mom. I love you anyways too Rory.

My son is the most remarkable young man. As remarkable as every other son to their mother.  He is remarkably frustrating, loving, anxious and beautiful in the same breath. He causes me so much stress that sometimes I just sit after he goes to bed and worry. Sometimes I laugh at the things he has invented. Sometimes I have to get angry because he sneaks out of bed because he "just has to tell me something." His view of the world is always skewed from the angle of a small boy who views the world as a happy place where Mom and Dad love him and will always hug him goodnight despite the day he has had. This is Rory.

A boy whose arse is often glued to a bike seat with a dog running along beside him.
A boy who struggles to sit and do school work in a classroom full of noise and distraction.
A boy who is already capable of seeing that he would work best alone, could he just bring his school work home everyday?
A boy who loves spaghetti...but without anything on it. Macaroni...without cheese.
A boy who when he IS in a bit of trouble, begins every apology with "Mom, Your hair looks really nice today."
Believes that the first day of hockey is a national holiday.
A boy who loves his baby cousin so much that when he hears we are visiting her, he jumps and cheers.
A boy who pretends not to notice when his friends leave him out but cries before bed after it happens.
A boy who knows that with each morning is a fresh start.
A boy who wants to save the world by taking photos on his ipod of people running the stop sign beside the field that he and Daddy are in.
A boy who forgives and forgets in a second.
A boy who loves to cook in the kitchen, learn by doing, and create with endless supplies.
A boy who will stop anything to cuddle on the couch to hear a chapter of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
A boy who is giving his teachers a lot of gray hair but who loves them dearly.

Is it Friday yet?

On turning 29 and 363 days

I am not in my 30's. Just for the record.

I did, however, enjoy a good giggle this morning when my sister in law texted me "Happy Birthday". I was practically on cloud 9 to write back "Thank you, but it is not my birthday."

But turning 30 is better than the alternative. And I always felt that 30 would be the ideal age. Too bad I am not 30.

Steve has been 30 forEVER. He seems to be handling it well.

I used to lie about my age so people would take me seriously. Now I realize that not many will ever take me seriously...but I am going to keep lying about my age so that I can at least be ID'd.

One of my students guessed my age to be 50 today when I received a beautiful bouquet in my classroom.

I kindly explained that it was a celebration of my 29 and 363days birthday.

Okay, so if I ever do turn 30, here is what I want for the day:

1) It to be on a Sunday so I can sleep in and be at home with my awesome kids.
2) For it to be during the most beautiful month of the year.


I am not hard to please.

But I am not 30.

Helter Skelter

None of the song actually applies to my life. But today was just one of those days where the intro to the song has me going "Yes...that is EXACLY how I feel today." And Helter Skelter is EXACTLY the mode I am taking when I type this blog post.Helter Skelter


So here is my summer full of wisdom...or wisecracks...

1) The whole world is not, in fact, "falling in love with the One Direction movie." I just saw the commercial and it made me roll my eyes...and then giggle at the realization that I was likely first in line for the Spice Girl movie, a way back when.

2) Sometimes fridges quit..in the middle of the hottest day ever...and you have to buy a new one...this sucks.

3) My new fridge is very pretty.

4) I have been without internet for almost the entire summer.

5) Xplornet does have good customer service on the phone.

6) I am pretty sure boys turn into wild animals over the summer. True story. Pretty sure he has stripes and a growl now.

7) Kennedy thinks ANYTHING that has stripes is beautiful. Maybe even with polka dots. Yes. Definitely stripes, spots and zig zags combined. Perhaps she will be a fashion model with this new found appreciation for the beauty of all animal print put together in one outfit.

8) Hope PETA doesn't get a hold of her, or WHAT NOT TO WEAR.

9) Paul McCartney puts on the most amazing concert you will ever see.

10) My Grandpa turned 80 and my Grandma turned 70 and we celebrated like crazy. First time that all of the cousins had gotten together in a picture with our kids. Roy turned 60 and I hear two men in our lives are turning 40 this year...I am pretty sure we are skipping my birthday, because I don't want to turn 25.

I am sad to see summer end and I feel like I accomplished nothing except running all over the place this season. I am (without sarcasm) very excited for autumn. There is something magical about September and harvest and school starting and the leaves turning beautiful colors. I hope that all of you enjoyed your summer and have not had to blow your entire income on school supplies. Happy Fall Y'all!

Composting Crazy

Many moons ago I thought I would be very GREEN and buy myself  (from a friend's garage sale) a large composting bin. I had no idea how to use it. I mean really...things that are biodegradable turn to dirt eventually..I just huck everything into the bin and voila!

AND...the bin sat for years with absolutely no one going in it except some very scary looking spiders. How quaint.

Then today I was working with my Grade 3's and we were learning all about composting (yes...great teacher that I am..I was learning right along with them). I just HAD to figure this out. I got home around 5:15 and the kids ran to greet me with requests for pizza and bike rides and jumping on the trampoline. IMAGINE their excited little faces when I asked "Wanna learn how to compost?!?"

Blank stares.

Eye roll.

"Oh here she goes again."Awesome Kids Composting Site

Kennedy put on her bike helmet (look at me not breaking any laws out in Firdale) and marched over to get her bike.

I promised Rory he could pour some water in the compost bin with my ultra cool plant watering can. He agreed.

We talked about nitrogen, carbon, brown stuff, green stuff, things we can compost...and worms. Which of course we had to look for. Now if you were fence sitting with the whole compost thing, I am telling you now that it is a MUST for any household with kids. As soon as I said worms I had 2 kids up to their elbows in the garden fishing out worms for the compost. And now that there is something LIVING in the compost bin...it is way more fun to 'feed it.'

They were especially excited when I told them (in my 'engaged' voice from above) that we should label 2 buckets and give one to Grandma and Grandpa to use and after supper every day they could take our bucket and Grandma's and it could be their chore...I mean...fun game...to empty the veggie peelings, etc, into the compost bin.

Rory CLAIMS he can't open the lid. (But he HAD to follow me out after supper in his P.J's ...AKA...gitch...to see if the worms liked what I gave)

The 352

Sometimes I go really slow and weave and wander around all of the pot holes and bumps. I really do like to take care of the Escape. Sometimes though, I am in a rush and I forget the unmarked holes and I hit them a little harder than I intend. Okay, seriously...if you have been on this road...you know that the whole pothole is actually a road. 

The road drives me crazy. Sometimes I can ignore the bumps and the holes and the dust that make it such a miserable road and I smile about things I could be doing or should be doing or wishes or dreams. Sometimes I crank the tunes and sing. I plan trips to Lunenburg and cabins by the lake. Sometimes I just chuckle that they played "Good Time" again and wonder if Jeff has heard it on his alarm. We joke that they play it every morning.

Sometimes it takes FOREVER to get home with all of the weaving and wandering (and the cursing when I hit the odd hole). Sometimes I get home very angry and bitter but I park the Escape in the garage and we both sigh with relief over the daily drive is over.

Thank goodness I have a good mechanic that looks after the needs of my Escape.

But I know that other roads are just as bumpy.

I know that sometimes it is okay to ignore how rough the road ahead is.

I believe that sometimes it is satisfying to meet those bumps head on.

And sometimes it is okay to curse when you forget about a bump that is not marked out. 

In the end I know that all of the repair people I need are within easy reach.

And someday...after driving over all of the bumps, I know I will wake up and find that the road is smooth. For a day or two. And there will be celebrating. Besides, despite the bumps along the way, I always seem to get where I want to go.

The Boy Loves to Cook

The last couple of months have been a pleasant mixture of racing around like a chicken with my head cut off and sleep. The sleep part usually lasts 6 hours or less. I know it is all worth it but it is becoming increasingly more difficult to find my creative genius when my brain is too busy mulling over "How will I assess my Lunenburg unit...Lasagna for supper tonight...take out the hamburger...Kennedy wants bagels in her lunch....damn I just forgot my lunch kit at school...I have to drive the FARM truck to school?!....tonight I will BBQ for Scott while he fixes the Escape...Happy Birthday Kennedy.........!

But in the middle of all of this frenzy I have learned something more valuable than my future job could EVER be.

Rory and I make good kitchen partners.

He races to the house every night to wrap himself up in my arms and then we have a coyote and roadrunner race to the house from the driveway. Sometimes he lets me be the roadrunner.

He throws all of his barn clothes all over the house and runs to wash his hands. 

"What are we cooking tonight, Mom? Any potatoes to peel?"

And we are off. In the hour that follows I learn much about what makes my little boy so special and what it means to be a Mom to a young man. I try to envision him with me in the kitchen 10, 20 years from now...and somehow I KNOW it will be...even though I am struggling to picture the man he will be 20 years from now. He peels all of the potatoes. I tell him not to cut his finger off. He scoffs at me. Then he cuts his finger. He shrugs it off as nothing. And then there is blood and it HURTS SO BAD AND I NEED A BANDAID RIGHT NOW and then it doesn't hurt anymore. Are there any carrots to peel tonight? And did I know that the Penguins are now his favorite hockey team and that they play on television tonight and that he is going to play in the NHL? Did I know he is going to live with Cohen? "Oh, Like when you go to University you will live with some friends?" No, he is building a house next door to Cohen for him and I and Steve to live in. He might be a gardener and he will keep both Tammy's yard and my yard (which is the same yard of course) looking wonderful. Maybe with some containers. 

And maybe he will marry Chloe. Actually, he will play for the Toronto Maple Leafs and people will yell "ROAR - EEEEE" when he is on the ice.

Actually, he is going to start a restaurant where all of the goody bags for kids have little hockey pucks and sticks in them. The tables will look like ice surfaces. Each seating area will be named after his favorite teams. And would I please play hockey...only to 12 points...when we have supper on.

And maybe we should BBQ tomorrow. Steak is good. Or maybe hot dogs. But let's not put 'stinky' cheese on the broccoli this time.

And Mom. How come hearts stop?

And my own heart skips a beat. It is still there. The pain and the anxiety and the confusion. For all of us. No wonder my creativity is gone. No wonder he is so excited to be cooking with his Mom. 

But we smile and talk. We hug and we laugh. Potato peels are flying all over my kitchen as his bandaided hand tries the OTHER peeler because it was obviously the first peeler's fault that he cut his finger SO BADLY.

And then he decides we need the radio on and he laughs his head off because he is POSITIVE the words to the song had something to do with Potatoes. I am pretty sure he heard wrong but what a coincidence and maybe we could write a potato peeling song. I am pretty sure in this kitchen...we can do anything.

For one hour I was a psychiatrist, a medic, a teacher, a chef, a sport newscaster, a Mom. Tomorrow he wants chicken wraps...

The Day I had to Explain Death to my 5 Year Old

Nothing can ever prepare you for the death of a friend, a teacher, a Mom, and a Winnipeg Bombers fan.

Nothing.

But over the last few days, my son and I are coming to terms with the harsh realities of life: the fact that we all die, and that we have no control over when or how.

I remember Subway lunches and her amazing smile. I remember the way she spoke about her sons and how she cringed when I teased her that I would send Rory to school in a Saskatchewan Rough Riders jersey for Halloween. She told me THAT would be the scariest costume she had ever seen.

And I feel so guilty that my son has his Mom to hug him goodnight. Her sons do not have their Mom anymore and I just don't understand how this is fair.

I remember her going to Vegas and teasing me about it mercilessly while I stayed behind to man her classroom. I am so glad she took that trip.

I remember her plans to make a Kindergarten blog.

I remember her support and encouragement while I was her student teacher and then playing along with my antics when I came back to be the Grade One student teacher.

I remember Rory coming home on the day he had brought her his "Hulk" gingerbread boy saying that Mrs.H had laughed a lot...but had thought it was Frankenstein.

I will miss the daily letters that she sent home with the kids about what they did at school that day... it was always the first thing I dug into Rory's or Kennedy's bag for.

I was so happy when she phoned me at home one day just because she wanted to touch base about Rory's headaches and together we made a plan for what we could do to help him if he got one in class.

Kennedy has one of the best memories: She wrote a letter to her current teacher saying that the teacher was the best. When she came back after Christmas holidays, Mrs. H had added to the whiteboard message "Hey, I thought I was the best teacher ever!" Kennedy still giggles about this.

A professor of mine told me about a book she has that I am going to share with Rory. The book states that there are many different ways celebrate life and to cope with our emotions. This blog is how I am dealing with my emotions. This is going to be a tough journey ahead but I hope that with time we will gain understanding and peace of mind. The AES and MES Kindergarten classrooms are never going to be the same. It makes me so terribly sad to think that I won't have a Kindergarten Grad pic of her and Rory like the one I have above. Thank you for your gifts and talents while you were with us K, we miss you terribly.

The Busiest Busy Person Who Hasn't Won the Busy Award.

Is there an award for being the busiest person in the world?

I think I am the busiest person in the world.

I am SO busy. So very busy. Probably busier than you. And you. AND it is likely going to get me places. BIG places.

No, you think you are busier than me, but you are not.

Neither are you.

Aren't you sitting there running through your head the many MANY busiest sorts of busy work that you do and are you not comparing it to mine and thinking...I am busier than her but I am not going to say that to her because it makes me look more important?

!?!??

I am so proud to say that I am so very busy being busy that I am not even worried about your busy 'ness' being busier than mine.

Going skating, painting a picture of something beautiful with Kennedy, reading together, doing puzzles, LAUGHING with friends, playing cards with my parents, taking time to chat with friends who mean the world to me, cuddling with Steve every night, and fitting in the odd "chopping Rory's corn silage" on his bedroom floor, makes me the busiest person. Hands down. I am so VERY busy trying to invest in my children's future... teaching them what IS really important in life.

If I win the award for busy 'est' person...maybe it will stop some of you from competing for it.

"The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat." Lily Tomlin

(and I don't know who Lily Tomlin is, and I DO advocate for hard work - just that I work to live...not the other way around).

The Fine Art of Procrastination

I always find that I get the MOST done when I am trying to avoid one little task.

Tasks I try whole-heartedly to avoid:
- taxes
- organizing our tax files
- finding all the stuff necessary for our taxes
- getting out the Christmas tree

For today's purposes though, let's just say that I did not have to worry about getting the tree out.

In the process of organizing our tax files for 2012 I entered every room and became distracted by every little job I have had lined up for the previous century:

I...
..found my closet!
..ran a short errand up the hill.
..decided to make stew, realized it would be better done in the slow cooker and put all the ingredients back in the fridge for tomorrow since I didn't have that much time.
..pinterest.
..made my bed.
..took down the Christmas tree.
..gathered clothes for the MCC.
..window shopped on IKEA
..played "Sorry" with the kids.
..built a lego "Captain America"
..bathed the stinky boy.
..thought about painting my toes.
..cleaned the tub.
...started cleaning our shower...oops...just realized i wasn't actually finished that job.

Sigh.

Tomorrow I KNOW I will get to those taxes...or Rodger's Hill...one of the two.