Teenager

As of yesterday, I am officially the mother of a teenager. I feel like I should be afraid. Like I should be bracing myself. These are the scary years, right? The years filled with push/pull and testing boundaries and rebellion. Important years that must be navigated carefully. Years that will define my future relationship with my son.

But strangely, I don't feel afraid. I feel blessed. I realize that there will be push and pull, and boundary testing, and maybe a bit of rebellion. But Connor is an awesome kid. He is honest and trustworthy and really wants to do the right thing. I am not naive enough to think there will never be issues we'll have to struggle through together. We already have, and he and I are far too much alike to go through life without butting heads. Homework time this afternoon was a perfect example. His stress level and mine rose to the breaking point, and we both needed a cooling off period before we could accomplish what needed to get done. But it did get done. We survived. Sometimes Chris looks at Connor and I and shakes his head. We are two sides of the same coin, and we drive each other crazy, but we always come out the other side ready to share a hug. I hope that doesn't change as my teenager grows older and "cooler". I don't think it will.

Connor has always been a homebody. He never wanted to go to camp (much to his dad's dismay), and until the last year or so he hasn't even been big on sleepovers. He likes to be in his own bed and night, with Mom and Dad not too far away. Two weeks ago he went to his first youth retreat, a winter weekend in Muskoka with the church youth group. He was super-excited, and a little nervous, but only someone who knows him as well as I do would realize it. I was really nervous. I was more worried about a fiery bus crash on snowy roads than anything else. I just wanted my boy safe at home, and by 6:00 Sunday night he was, with a big smile on his face. I am so glad his first "away from home" was a good experience, a great experience. It was good for both of us, good for him to get away, and good for me to let him go. I know it will be happening more and more.

This weekend, however, on his birthday, Connor was content to spend the day hanging out at home with his family. We had a big family breakfast, opened some presents, had Connor's favourite (tacos) for dinner, and then he stayed home and babysat his sister while Chris and I went out in the evening. His biggest event of the day was joining Facebook. He's still a homebody at heart.

Connor is a teenager. He is three inches taller than I am, and is quickly gaining on his dad. The years of driving and dating and leaving home are not that far away. We are entering a new stage of life together, and there will be challenges for our family. But in general, I couldn't be more grateful for the kid that Connor is. He has a generous heart and a great attitude. He is compassionate and kind, a good friend and wonderful brother. He is a teenager, but deep inside he's still my little boy. I hope part of him always will be.

I'm Still Here!

Time flies by to quickly. How many times have I said it? It doesn't feel like three months since I've written a blog post, but it has been more than that. Today life looks very different than it did three months ago. There is snow on the ground, for one thing. I am sitting at my kitchen table, looking out the window at three children happily building a snow fort in the back yard, while light snowflakes softly falls around them. Our basement is finished, finally, and we have been thoroughly enjoying the extra space it has provided. Connor has somewhat recovered from the disappointment of not playing basketball this year. He still hopes to be part of a school team sometime in the next couple of years, but meanwhile he is enjoying more free time. He loves being part of the church youth group, and is going to his first winter retreat in Muskoka next month. Janelle still loves taking piano and dance. Last weekend she was part of a huge group of dancers from her studio who performed the half time show at a London Lightning basketball game. My kids have big smiles on their faces today. And that's what makes me smile.

I am sitting at my kitchen table because I got a laptop for Christmas! Now I can blog anywhere! And I will — I promise! But today the blog post is short because tomorrow it's Christmas again. Tomorrow we host the Haines family Christmas, so I have some work to do. Cleaning, groceries, putting all the gifts away. Life is busy as always, but I didn't want 2012 to end without one more blog post, just to remind everyone that I'm still here. Happy New Year!!

Marriage

I asked you to indulge me yesterday as I posted the findings of a very scientific poll asking elementary aged children the question "What is Love?" Well, this is still Valentines Day Week (I have a habit of stretching all special days out as long as possible — Ask my husband about "Mother's Day Weekend" or "Birthday Week"), so I decided to post another similar poll, this time on the subject of marriage. I thought it was just too cute to pass up, and far more entertaining than my own thoughts on the subject.

‎1. HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHOM TO MARRY?

You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
— Alan, age 10

No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.
— Kristen, age 10


2. WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?

Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
— Camille, age 10


3. HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?

You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
— Derrick, age 8


4. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?

Both don't want any more kids.
— Lori, age 8


5. WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?

Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
— Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure)

On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
—Martin, age 10


6. WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?

When they're rich.
—Pam, age 7

The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.
—Curt, age 7

The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them. It's the right thing to do.
— Howard, age 8


7. IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?

It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
—Anita, age 9 (bless you child)


8. HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?

There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?
—Kelvin, age 8


And the #1 Favorite is ........

9. HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?

Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump truck. —Ricki, age 10

Something to think about! Saturday night our community group put on a dinner at our church and showed the Date Night Challenge from Focus on the Family. It stressed the importance of dating your spouse, and challenged married couples to go on two more dates over the next two weeks. Yesterday Chris took me out to lunch to celebrate Valentine's Day at a great restaurant in downtown London I'd never tried before. It was nice to spend some alone time together, and Saturday night we have a date planned for dinner and a movie, so I guess if all goes well we've met the challenge. I think it is important to make the time to share special time alone with each other. Often our dates consist of take-out Chinese food and a movie at home. That's not bad — sometimes it's just what I need! But getting out together is important, too, and we both enjoy those times, however rare they may be. At lunch Chris suggested that we go out for lunch together once a month, and I wholeheartedly agreed. I'm so glad my husband is the one I chose to journey through life with. They don't come any better than him! Marriage isn't so hard when you're doing it with your best friend.

As a postscript, I want to wish a very happy birthday to my friend and fellow blogger Denise! May you be spoiled rotten today, my friend!

Twelve Today

Today he is over 5'5" tall. He weighs 100 lbs. He can sink a shot from behind the three point line. He can Ripstick all the way to school and back. Most of his pant hems hover around his ankles. He loves tacos, and Phineas and Ferb, and the colour green. He is kind to his sister, and wonderful with all little kids. He'd be a great babysitter, but he still gets nervous when Mom and Dad leave him too late in the evening. He has (somewhat) patiently waited for years to go to Disney, and can hardly contain his excitement about finally going next month. He's my baby boy.

And today he is twelve years old.

Every year I say the same thing. Why are these the years that have to fly by so fast? My childhood seemed to go on forever, but my little boy has grown as tall as me in the blink of an eye. Still, I have been determined to enjoy it all. Every stage has been more fun than the one before. I loved every minute of the "floppy baby" stage, although Connor stayed there for about ten minutes. Toddlerhood was a hilarious time of riding his tricycle, feeding ducks, VeggieTales, Daddy back in school and special time just him and me. Then came the big brother days, and he was off to preschool and then kindergarten, and suddenly he was riding a two wheeler down a busy street and playing basketball and heading to the community pool with his buddies. And then it was time to move to London and make all new friends, and he was a trooper.  All through it he has been a tenderhearted boy, sensitive and caring and full of love. I couldn't ask for a sweeter boy. He still loves watching Spiderman movies with Dad and reading Harry Potter with me. He sits beside me in the front seat when we drive together now. I can still make him laugh with just a look. He is every bit the big brother I always wished I had; his little sister is a lucky girl. He still loves playing basketball, and he goes to Junior Youth with good friends, and he is too old for birthday parties.

Connor is twelve.

How did we get here? I am sure time speeds up. Because in four years, the time it takes to turn around, he'll be begging for a driver's license. And only two years beyond that I'll be picking out a dress for his graduation. And maybe not so long after that I'll be standing in the doorway of his empty bedroom. I'm not ready, and I'm afraid it is all going to sneak up on me. These days are precious. I need to hold them close.

So I'll take more pictures at the basketball games, spend a few extra minutes each night reading Harry Potter, and make the time for making special memories. Only one more year until we are celebrating the new teenager in our house! Will he want me to read bedtime stories to him then?

Happy 12th birthday, Connor! Your mom loves you so much!

Bedtime

The wind is howling outside the window, and rain is beating its steady rhythm against the glass. I just left my daughter's cozy bed after reading two chapters of Vacation Under the Volcano, our latest "Magic Tree House" book. Connor is getting his pajamas on, and soon I'll climb up into his loft bed and read a chapter of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. There is something wonderful about bedtime reading with my kids.

I love this time of day, especially when Chris is home and the kids are tucked in bed and it's time for us to have "us time". Tonight, Chris is working late. He'll be working late for most of this week, so we met him for supper out between piano and Kids Night Out so we could still manage some family time. But I'm still planning on enjoying every minute of my "after bedtime" time. I'll dim the lights and settle in on the couch, the fire crackling in the fireplace. I'll probably tune in to the finale of Dancing With the Stars, and then I'll crack open a new book. Peace. Quiet. Serenity. The best time of the day.

I'm thankful for good books I can read with my kids, and for the fact that they still want me to read with them. I'm thankful that Chris got the fireplace in good working order on the weekend. I'm thankful that although a storm is raging outside my window, my children and I are safe in our cozy home. I'm thankful for bedtime.

I Have a Mommy Ache

Friday was the day that the first progress reports came home from school this year, and somehow, for the first time ever, I forgot about it. I didn't realize it until this afternoon when Connor was digging in his bookbag to find out if he had homework to finish. His discovery sent Janelle rushing off to find her bookbag and hand me hers.

Connor's report card was fairly good, pretty much as expected. He isn't leading the class, but he has a pretty good handle on everything, and other than a few issues with keeping focus and staying neat and organized, his teacher thinks he's an awesome kid (which he is, of course).

Janelle's report card made me heartsick. She has always struggled with staying focused, because she has such an active imagination, but her teachers have always managed to be positive and cheer her many strengths while encouraging her to speed up and stay on task. For the first time, her teacher seemed to find far more negatives to highlight on her report than positives. "Needs Improvement" was more common than "Good" or even "Satisfactory".

I wasn't taken completely by surprise. The teacher had called a couple of weeks ago to discuss Janelle's progress in reading, saying that she knows she can read well, but because she reads so slowly her reading level would have to be set back. I got off the phone miserable, and in the end, quite angry. Janelle loves to read! Am I supposed to take something she loves to do and insist we use a stopwatch every time she does it? Does adding that kind of pressure really help? She is a pokey little puppy! Everything Janelle does is at the pace of a turtle. She will never suffer from stress or high blood pressure. She cannot be hurried, but her work is always neat and perfectly done. When I asked for suggestions, the teacher was not helpful.

At suppertime we tried to talk to Janelle about the importance of staying focused and on task and completing her work more quickly. We tried to impress upon her the importance of keeping her mind on what she is doing, but I know that urgency is not a concept Janelle really understands. Since birth she has done things when she is good and ready. She was born six days late, didn't walk until 17 months, didn't talk until she was two (when she opened her mouth and surprised us with full sentences). She is amazingly self-assured and confident, and I hate the idea of compromising that in response to a negative report card.

So tonight I have a Mommy ache. I'm hurting because I know I have to start getting tough with my little girl. I'm hurting because I feel like her teacher doesn't recognize how amazing she is. And I'm hurting because I don't really know where to go from here to make it all better. Time to get on my knees!

Tonight I am thankful for Janelle, my imaginitive, articulate, brilliant daughter. I wouldn't trade her for all the speedy little girls in the world!

The Family List

I missed the beginning of National Blog Post Month. To be honest, I really never even thought about it until I saw the first seven posts of my friend Denise's NaBloPoMo entries. Last year I wrote a blog post for every single day in November, and I'm kicking myself because I didn't hop on the bandwagon this year. It wasn't easy to come up with something for every single day of the month. It wasn't easy to find the time. But I did it, and I was so proud of myself for finishing that I vowed I would do it again this year. And I missed the beginning of it.

But who says I can't hop on that bandwagon now? Who says I can't start my own bandwagon? So here goes: I'm starting NaBloPoMo, but with a twist.

I've been thinking a lot about gratitude lately. I wrote a couple of weeks ago about the wonderful book I've been reading on the subject, One Thousand Gifts, and shared that I'm beginning my own list of the many gifts in my life. The Sunday School curriculum that I'm teaching this month is all about gratitude, so that is also turning my thoughts to daily thankfulness. This month America celebrates Thanksgiving, and even though the Canadian holiday has passed, I feel surrounded by the idea of giving thanks, and recognizing the many simple everyday gifts I may otherwise take for granted. My friend Robin has begun a collection of "Thankful Thoughts" on her blog, and it has inspired me to turn NaBloPoMo into a bit of a collection of my own.

Today I'm thankful for two amazing children, who are humoring their mother on her quest to recognize the gifts in our lives. It seems that daily I am realizing more and more that gratitude is the key to so many things in life: the key to joy, faith, humility, confidence, generosity, and so many more virtues that are being revealed to me as I embark on this journey of thankfulness. Taking my focus off the mundane and the stress in my life, and placing that focus on a search for every little thing that I can be thankful for, puts all things in a new and more positive light. And if gratitude is the key to making the world a brighter and more joyful place, I need to share that key with my children! So yesterday I went out and bought a brand new notebook (one with a flower on the cover, to Connor's dismay), and told the kids this morning that every day they will be expected to write down at least three things for which they are thankful.  Of course I got the expected "But what if we can't think of three?" from Connor. I explained that this is exactly why we're doing it! Because there are always at least three things we can thank God for, but if we don't take the time to think of them and write them down, we will miss them! Janelle's eyes lit up — I knew this project would be right up her alley. She grabbed the notebook and wrote down her three things in no time, and asked if she could write down more after school if she wanted to. Just before he headed out the door, Connor jotted down his three. I'll have to remind him that he should try to come up with new gifts every day. I forgot to offer Chris the opportunity to join us, but I have a feeling Janelle will be proudly sharing the list with Daddy tonight at supper time. I am so thankful for her exuberance.

So from now until December 7 I will be sharing my gifts, my own thankful thoughts, right here. I am so excited about this new twist on the challenge! Anyone want to jump on my bandwagon and come along for the ride?

Happy Belated Birthday, Janelle!

For the past two years at the beginning of February I have written a blog post dedicated to Connor, in honour of his birthday. My kids don't mind being regular subjects of my blog. I don't know how long it will last, but for now they really love being highlighted here. But it occurred to me the other day that I've never written a birthday post for Janelle. Her birthday is August 5, which is usually a pretty busy time of year for us. Last year we were still travelling in NB, and this year we had just returned and were still unpacking and entertaining company from away. So I've decided it's never too late to focus my spotlight on my little girl for a day.

Janelle turned eight years old last month, which amazes me as every one of my children's birthdays have all their lives. It seriously feels like yesterday that I found out I was finally the mother of a little girl. Not long after that she and I were heading off to preschool together, which was a wonderful experience not every mom gets to have. Two short years later, when she skipped off to kindergarten without me, I felt a little lost. And now she's an eight-year-old, in grade three, who is getting braces this month and has a monster crush on Justin Bieber. That's the thing about babies. They grow up. And it still leaves me stunned at every birthday.

A very happy girl, right from the start! October 2003, two months old.

July 2007, surprising me with how she taught herself to swim!

June 2008 — Our preschool graduation day.

First day of Kindergarten — September 2008

Janelle is a ray of sunshine in our house. She loves to sing and dance and make up stories. She adores playdates and parties, but is also perfectly happy playing on her own. She prefers her nickname, and is very determined about her fashion choices. She is learning to play the piano and can't wait to start dance classes next week. She is the most easy going child I've ever met, but when her heart is broken her tears will break yours. She does everything on her own timeline, and always has, as far back as starting to walk at seventeen months. Her teachers have affectionately nicknamed her "Pokey Little Puppy" and "Turtle", and sometimes I think they'd love to light a fire under her, as would I, but it's just her nature. She does things when she is good and ready, and when she does them, she does them well. She is fiercely independent, but still loves her bedtime snuggles. Sometimes I look at her and wonder where she came from, but then I realize she is a perfect combination of her dad and me. She has his courage and independence, and she is a bit of a drama queen like her mama. I pray she always feels the self-confidence that is so evident in her demeanor now. She is a beautiful, kind and creative girl, and I'm so proud to be her mom.

Happy belated birthday, Nellie! I love you!

Too Much Time at the Dentist!

We have a new dentist. No surprise, since we've had a new everything in the past year. She is lovely; very competent, friendly and kind to my kids. The problem is, I feel like I am living at her office these days!

It started with Janelle's check-up on Feb. 1. Janelle has teeth that are terribly prone to cavities. Before this year, she'd had seven fillings in her short life. I brace myself for the news every time I take her for a check-up. She has only had one visit when the dentist has not found a cavity, and I've been assured there is really not much I can do to improve that. Janelle takes very good care of her teeth. Much better care, in fact, than her cavity-free brother does! So I wasn't surprised when our new dentist told me that Janelle would need two new fillings this year. I made the appointments right away. No point postponing the inevitable. The one saving grace is that Janelle doesn't mind fillings at all, or any trips to the dentist for that matter. I think she relishes the ooohs and aaahs of the dentist and all her staff over what a good girl she is, hopping up in the chair with a smile on her face. Both our old and new dentists have sworn they've never seen anything like her. Small consolation for a mouth full of fillings, but we'll take what we can get.

So we headed back to the dentist of February 7 and 15 for those two fillings. Then on Feb. 24 I had my own check-up, sorely needed, I'm afraid, since it had been nearly two years since my last. I was told I have the beginnings of gum disease (tsk, tsk, not enough flossing), and was given half a laser treatment that day to reverse the effects. Tuesday I was back for the other half of the treatment, and assured that "it's working already". I also have two appointments made for later in March when I'll get one new filling, and have an old one replaced.

Today it was Connor's turn. I told the dentist I'm starting to feel like I live in her office! I feel like the receptionists and I are old friends. I think I've met all the staff. My new dentist doesn't feel like my "new" dentist anymore. Connor is less comfortable with dental visits, primarily because he just hasn't had as many as his little sister. He has great teeth. No previous cavaties. No problems at all. Until today. Today we found out that he, like his mother, has not been flossing nearly enough. Gingivitis is rearing its ugly head. He needs to seriously make a habit of flossing and return to the dentist in three months, and if there is not an improvement, he also will need a laser treatment like I had. Oh, yeah, and he has his first cavity. Not one he could have prevented with better hygiene, I was assured, since it formed underneath the sealants he had gotten several years ago. He needs a filling. Another appointment.

So between my fillings and Connor's we'll be visiting the dentist three more times in March. Then in April the trips to the orthodontist begin. It seems my kids don't have room in their mouths to allow their adult teeth to grow in. Ugh. Too much time at the dentist! I'm ready to stop thinking about teeth!

Superbowl Recovery

We attended our first Superbowl Party as a family last night. It was held at the home a couple from our Community Group. We got the invitation about three weeks ago, and Connor has been talking about it ever since. He was incredibly excited — far more so than I ever would have expected. Football has never been a big fan sport in our household. We're all about basketball — Connor and Chris love to watch an NBA game together, and in March each member of the family enters our March Madness predictions on our own personal set of brackets. Of course, as Canadians, it is our civic duty to be hockey fans, and we do enjoy a good hockey game together now and then. But football — I just don't get it! Chris has to explain it to me every time we watch a game (which is a very rare occurance). Therefore, it amazes me that my son is able to "get it", but he does. Something in the male DNA must allow them to understand incomprehensible sports.

So we went to a Superbowl Party. We took two cars, because I knew Janelle would not survive the whole evening. We had a great time! Lots of food, lots of good conversation. Oh, and there was that game on TV that most of the guys seemed pretty interested in, too. They all seemed pretty happy, because apparently the right team was winning. We stayed for the first half, watched the American commercials on YouTube at halftime, and the last part of the halftime show, and then Janelle and I prepared to head out. I checked with Connor to see if he wanted to come with us, and he looked wiped out. His eyelids were droopy and his cheeks were red, his telltale signs of exhaustion. But he was wearing a big smile, and there was no way he was leaving that game until it was over. So I left him and brought my girl home to tuck her safely into bed, and then head to bed myself. I did watch some of the game, but mostly so I wouldn't miss the beginning of Glee, which was coming on following the game. When Connor arrived home, he was all smiles. Apparently, the right team won, which invariably alters Connor's mood one way or the other. It was 10:45 p.m., and he didn't put up much fuss about going to bed. All was right with the world.

And then it was morning. I discovered last night that Connor had not finished all his homework this weekend, so I woke him at 7:30 to complete a math worksheet before heading to school for 9:00. He was a mess. He was just not emotionally equipped to deal with homework, breakfast, washing up or getting dressed. So I did what any good mother would do — I sent him back to bed. What is the point in sending a physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted child to school? Would he actually learn anthing? Would he be an asset to the class in that state of mind? I don't think so. I took Janelle and our neighbour kids to school and came home to have my breakfast. Connor came downstairs just before 9:00. I suggested he give his homework another try. Tears! Drama! Inability to cope! Back to bed! I told him I would wake him in an hour so I could take him to school in time to pick Janelle up to take her to her dentist appointment. I don't think he ever did sleep, but he certainly spent some significant time curled up in his comfy bed in a dark room. That had to help. When he emerged again just before 10:00 I asked him to try getting cleaned up and dressed before he tackled the homework sheet. This time we were much more successful. I'm never awake in the morning until the water hits my face either!

So my son missed two hours of school, all because he stayed up to watch his first Superbowl. Worth it? I guess that depends on your perspective. Connor certainly thinks it was, despite how wretched he felt this morning. And I would tend to agree with him. I mean, he will remember last night far longer than he would remember anything he may have missed this morning between 9:00 and 11:00 a.m. And don't we all have to experience the crappy "next morning" feeling to understand how valuable a good night's sleep really is?

I may change my mind this afternoon when I experience the late afternoon version of sleep-deprived Connor. But I know we'll all survive. He'll go to bed early, and a babysitter is coming tonight, so I won't be subjected to a long, drawn out bedtime battle. He's always perfect for the sitter! All in all, Superbowl Recovery isn't that traumatic — as long as it only happens once a year!

Eleven Years Ago...

Eleven years ago today I was suffering through the end stages of thirty-one hours of indescribable pain. Okay, so maybe the whole thirty-one hours wasn't indescribably painful, but it wasn't fun! I could not believe how long it took that boy to come out of me! It must have been a foreshadowing of how long it takes him to get ready for school in the morning.

Eleven years ago I thought I was having a little girl. I had no idea what to do with a little boy, and I certainly didn't understand how awesome little boys can be.

Eleven years ago I had no idea how my life was going to change. Sure I had taken care of many, many other babies, and I felt very ready to care for one of my own. But I had never been charged with the care of such a tiny defenseless creature who had no one in the world to see to his needs but his father and me. We were it. We were all he had. Wow.

Eleven years ago I had never felt the kind of love that makes your heart jump into your throat at the thought of another person being hurt or in pain, or even uncomforable in any way. I didn't know how it would feel to need to check multiple times every night just to make sure my baby was still breathing. I didn't know how it would feel to want to throttle the other kid on the basketball court who knocked my kid down. I had never been a Mama Bear.

Eleven years ago I had never felt the joy of seeing my own precious baby's brown eyes light up with a smile so beautiful it still makes my heart skip a beat. I didn't know how much delight I could share in that sweet baby laugh that still echoes in my heart today.

Eleven years ago I had never experienced the pain that discipline can bring a parent. I didn't know how much it would hurt to teach him right from wrong. I didn't know that his tears would be magically connected to my own.

Eleven years ago I knew nothing of the wonder and amazement of basketball, Lego, video games, or Spiderman. I had no idea how many Hot Wheels cars would fill every corner of my house. I didn't know that sharing a chapter of Harry Potter would become my favourite hour of the day.

Eleven years ago today I had never met the most amazing, kind, gentle and loving boy I've ever known. But eleven years ago tonight he became my whole world.

Happy birthday, Connor Michael Haines! Thanks for making the last eleven years the very best years of my life.

Girls Night In

The boys are out at a London Knights hockey game with our neighbour and his son, so Janelle and I had a "Girls Night In" tonight. I let her choose our activities for the evening. She decided to start with two games of "Go Fish" (the Finding Nemo version). Chris teases me about not being able to let the kids win, and I must admit, it is difficult. I won both games, but Janelle didn't care. She celebrated my victories right along with me. But she was ready to stop at two games. Then she decided we'd watch Flicka, one of the movies she got for Christmas (a $1.99 Black Friday bargain!). So we turned on the fire and turned out the lights and cuddled up together on the couch. She was engrossed in the movie, but every once in a while she'd come out with some profound and adorable comment. It was precious! The movie was okay, but the company was awesome. Now Janelle is sound asleep and I'm basking in the glow of her snuggles. I can't think of a better way to spend an evening with my girl.

We'll have to send the boys out more often.

Post by Janelle

Janelle has decided she is taking over my blog for today. She has told me to write exactly what she says. Here goes:

"Janelle and Connor cannot wait for Christmas. They can't wait to see all their toys and presents. Janelle thinks Christmas is a lucky day. Janelle really wants an EZ Bake Oven. Connor wants everything on his Christmas wish list. Today Connor said that Daddy was not going to a meeting, he was going to a fun hockey game. Connor and Janelle and Mommy are going to the new Toys R Us. After that we're going to look at a fabulous book about Santa and Christmas. It has Mrs. Claus in it, too."

Do you see a bit of a Christmas fixation emerging in our household? Perhaps tomorrow I should write a post discussing the evils of commercialism at Christmas. For now, the kids and I are off to the new Toys R Us that has opened about two minutes from our house, while Daddy enjoys an evening at the hockey game. I think I'll be stopping at Starbucks on the way! I do look forward to snuggling under the covers with my kiddies and some newly unearthed Christmas books, brought up from the basement today.

So it begins...

Parent-Teacher Interviews

Several years ago, when I was still teaching full-time, I gave a CBC Radio interview about Parent-Teacher Interviews. The purpose of the discussion was to prepare parents for meetings with their children's teachers. I remember encouraging parents to know what they want to discuss ahead of time, bring report cards with them, and get right to the point since time is of the essence in a 15 minute interview slot. I recall saying "Don't be nervous! The teacher is just as nervous about meeting with you."

I wish I had a tape of that interview now. I'm on the other side of the table. And it is a bit nerve-wracking. Both of my kids are amazing. They are kind, smart, funny, courteous — I am proud of them for so many reasons. But both of them have issues with staying on task. They struggle with getting work started right away, and with getting it finished on time. Incentives often work for Connor. If he knows he'll get something out of it, he'll get right to work and do a great job. But if there is any distraction or social stimulation to take his mind away from the task at hand, he completely forgets what he's doing. Janelle, on the other hand, just lives in her own little world. Her kindergarten teacher nicknamed her "Poky Little Puppy". Her grade one teacher in Fredericton affectionately refered to her as "Turtle". Janelle doesn't need an outside influence to distract her. There are plenty of distractions already living in her imagination, ready to lure her mind away from whatever assignment she is supposed to be completing. And despite many conversations with her teacher about it, I am at a loss to find a remedy for her lack of "self-motivation".

In Fredericton, it seemed that all my interactions with my children's teachers were positive. They found them charming and intelligent. Even when Connor was struggling with reading, his teachers were very encouraging, explaining that this was only temporary and one day it would all "click" for him. Janelle's teachers, while they did express frustration with her "pokiness", always said she was delightful and a joy to have in the class. I am hopeful that our meetings with the teachers this morning will be equally positive. But I am nervous. This side of the table is frought with far more emotion than I knew when I was a teacher who was not yet also a parent of a school-aged child. I wish I had my own encouraging radio interview to listen to as I prepare to meet with the teachers today. I think someday this experience will make me a much more sensitive and empathic teacher on Parent-Teacher Interview day. I can't wait until it's over!

Time Change

"Spring ahead, Fall back". We've done it every year of our lives, but it never gets any easier. I always think of spring as the hard one — I hate losing that hour of sleep, and feeling for the next week like I'm getting up so much earlier than is natural for one of my species. This past spring it was a bit easier. We moved to Ontario just few days before Daylight Saving Time began, so we actually just switched back to Atlantic Time, which our bodies hadn't adjusted away from yet anyway. In the fall we get an extra hour of sleep! Bonus! So why do I feel so exhausted?

Yesterday I moved around in slow motion, feeling (and I'm sure looking) like a zombie, for most of the day. I just couldn't seem to summon the energy for anything substantial. I tried to work on the armoire, but I needed a new tack cloth and so I blamed my lack of progress on that. I went to a mall near my home to do some Christmas shopping, and I did pick up a few things at Zellers, but as I walked past all the other stores it just felt like too much work to go in and actually look for anything. The headache started just before the kids came home from school, and as the Tuesday routine wound up into full swing, it only intensified. The large English Toffee cappuccino I picked up at Tim Hortons, while very yummy, did little to increase my energy state. By the time I brought Janelle home from the church and put her to bed, I was ready to fall into bed, too. But there was laundry to do, so I stayed up to finish it. When Chris and Connor got home from basketball an hour later, I was flaked out on the couch watching a new episode of Glee.

I know I should have gone to bed then. But it was 9:00, and how do we get used to the time change if we just go to be early? Chris and I hadn't seen each other all day, so I wanted to stay up and visit with him a bit. Laying sprawled out on separate couches flicking channels isn't exactly quality time, though. I came up to bed at 11:00, and by then I had gotten a bit of a second wind, so I settled in with a good book, and was still reading when Chris came up an hour later. I was sending a message to my body: "Fine, if you want me to stay up later, I'll stay up later. And I'll get up later, too!"

The problem is, that doesn't work. I blame it on the kids. My children could stay up until midnight and still get up at 7:00 a.m., like clockwork. That makes it very hard for their bodies to adjust to the time change. I almost look forward to the days when I will have to drag their sleep-lovin' teenage bodies out of bed (but I'm starting to think that's a myth!) Neither Chris nor I are morning people (far from it!) so I don't know why our kids are so insistent on daily rising with the sun. Monday morning I heard Connor starting his day at 6:15. To be fair, I had forgotten to set his clock back, so he thought it was 7:15. Since they don't leave for school until 8:45, I encourage them to stay in their beds at least until 7:00. But once he was up, there was no going back to sleep. And once his sister heard him up, she was right there with him. And of course, hearing all this, I wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. So we were all exhausted. Both Monday and Tuesday we have all neared our breaking point right around homework time after school. Connor claimed he was "too tired" to figure out his homework, and Janelle was "too tired" to go through her whole piano practice. And I was "too tired" to fight about it!

I am determined that today will be more productive. I have a list, in my head, but I may actually write it down. This blog post was first on the list. I haven't even had breakfast yet. That's next on the list. I am going to move through the day, and no matter how tired I am, I'm just going to keep moving. This time change is playing havoc with my body, but I will WIN! And hopefully by next week we will all be functioning normally in Eastern Standard Time.

Peanut Butter and Cranberry Juice

My mind is on a long list of to-do items today (it's Tuesday, right?), so I've been a bit scattered when it comes to landing an idea for a blog post. I considered a number of different subjects, and cast them aside because I knew my brain can only handle so much this morning while I contemplate all I have to do.

I could write about the progress I made on my armoire yesterday, and casually mention the BIG MISTAKE I made that will require sanding down the edges of the upper doors and restaining and varnishing them (ugh -- makes me sick to think about it).

I could talk about how I'm starting to panic because Christmas is just over 6 weeks away, which means the kids have only 5 weeks left of school, and I've barely started Christmas shopping.

I could share my packing list for my getaway weekend in Toronto. I still have to find that pair of shoes hiding somewhere in my closet, and I don't have a clue what I'm going to wear to dinner Friday night...

I could comment on the challenge of motivating a child to practice piano on a daily basis. She loves practicing, but she wants to practice what she wants to play, not necessarily what her teacher has suggested. And I can't seem to remember to remind her to practice anyway!

I could choose a random memory or friend to honour today, which I think is a very nice idea, but I just don't have the time today to give that kind of post the thought and respect it deserves.

So I'm filing those ideas away for another day. Today I am just going to share something that made me smile this morning as I was rushing around getting everyone ready to get out the door. Chris used to jot down cute things that the kids said in his Palm Pilot. There's another blog post -- I need to find that list and use it! I thought Janelle's comment this morning was worth recording for posterity.

I had just made her breakfast of peanut butter on half a bagel and a glass of cranberry juice. She sat down and took one bite and a drink of her juice. Janelle can be extremely expressive when she wants to be, but she isn't usually quite so impressed by her breakfast as she was today. Her eyes immediately closed and she said "Mmmmmm, Mommy! That is sooooooo yummy!!! The peanut butter really sucks up the flavour of the cranberry juice! Sooooooo deeeeeee-licious!" The peanut butter sucks up the flavour of the cranberry juice? I guess I never thought of that. She does have a way with words. Maybe she'll be the writer in the family. Or maybe the chef, who recognizes when one food "sucks up the flavour" of another one. She's going to be something anyway.

Maybe you had to be there, but I just thought it was cute enough to make my blog today. Now I'm off to work on the armoire and maybe do some Christmas shopping and find those shoes to pack and decide what to wear Friday night, before I come home and make Janelle practice her piano lesson. And I'm going to think about my blog post for tomorrow.

It's All About Me

Isn't that just the most narcissistic blog post title you've ever read? Well, as most of my friends will tell you, I love my birthday, and have always felt that it really is all about me. The only day of the year that I can just bask in the love of all my family and friends. Well, not the only day, but the only one that is really all about me. Do I sound like a 12-year-old? Yeah, I agree.

Unfortunately, my birthday comes with a counter that I'm not that crazy about anymore. I'm 41 today. I'm not sure why I shared that, since I've spent the past week trying to impress upon my son that it is rude to announce my age loudly in public places and to anyone who will listen. I remember being so excited about turning 16, and then 21, even 25. I'm pretty sure it was all downhill from there. Except that looking back on my life, all the best times have been since then. So why do we hate birthdays if life just keeps getting better and better?

I decided that my birthday was a good day to share a little bit about myself on my blog, for those of you who may not know me as well as others. For those of you who do know me as well as I know myself, feel free to point out mistakes, exaggerations, or omissions. This is just a brief overview after all. So here goes: it's all about me!

I was born on November 4, 1969, in Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada. I was blessed with absolutely the best parents on the planet. They loved me and supported and continue to do so. Even more importantly they loved each other and modeled to me what real love means. I'm the oldest of three, and my sister is definitely my oldest friend. She is 2 1/2 years younger than me, and is in many ways my polar opposite, and we therefore often drive each other crazy. But she knows me like no one else does, and I don't know what I'd do without her. She was there for all of it, and aside from my parents she's the only one who was. My brother didn't come on the scene until I was 9, and I adored him from the moment I saw him, if not before. I clearly remember thinking many times during his childhood "Is he really the cutest kid in the world, or is it just because we love him so much that we think he is?" Looking back, I think it was a little bit of both. I still feel that way about him, even though I don't talk to him nearly as much as I would like to. I'd still do just about anything for him.

We moved three times after I started school. From Moncton we went to St. Stephen, NB, then from there to Summerside, PEI, and then finally to Rothesay, NB, just outside Saint John, which became home. These places can be divided into milestones. Life began in Moncton. My brother was born in St. Stephen. My sixth grade teacher in PEI told me that I could write. That's why you are reading this blog. And Saint John is where I grew up.

Despite my talkative nature I was a pretty shy kid and I hated starting at a new school where I didn't know anyone. I love PEI to this day, but those were not good years for me socially. At least for the last year or two there I was bullied pretty badly. I remember crying my heart out when Mom and Dad told us we were moving to Saint John, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. The day I started at Rothesay Junior High, my mother took me to school and when we got out of the car my head automatically went down. Even now I can hear my mother saying "Pick your head up and stand up straight!" I never forgot that, and still when I'm walking into a new social situation and I'm tempted to duck my head and disappear I hear her voice. Just one of those lessons that stick with you. I made friends that day who are still my friends today. Getting away from the bullying situation in PEI was the first step in building up some confidence that had been shattered over the past couple of years.

My parents had always instilled the importance of faith within me. I had gone to Sunday School since infancy, and was shocked the first time I heard that some people don't believe in God. It was in my teen years that my faith began to become my own, though, and I began to really understand what a personal relationship with God meant, and how it could and would shape my life. From that point on I don't think that faith has ever really faltered. There have been very difficult times, but I have always understood that my heavenly Father wasn't causing those rough patches, but carrying me through them.

I wasn't one of the really popular kids in high school, but I had good friends — many of whom I still call friends today. I liked high school — I enjoyed the atmosphere and the school spirit. I loved English and I hated Math and Science. Reading and writing were always my passion where academics were concerned. I guess that's why it's not surprising that I studied English in university. I always knew I wanted to write and teach, but I didn't have the grades to get into a B.Ed. program right after high school, so I headed into a four year B.A. at UNBSJ.

I liked high school, but I loved university! I was so happy there. I made some wonderful friends my first year, and had a lot of fun. My grades attested to the fact that I was having a lot of fun, but I still did moderately well. I had begun to come into my own and was gaining confidence in who I was and who I wanted to be, and I was studying things that meant something to me.

I didn't have a serious boyfriend until after my second year of university. We dated nearly two years, and I always knew it was going to end, and probably end badly. He didn't share my strong faith, which was and is the guiding force in my life, and I knew I didn't want to enter a forever relationship with someone who didn't value the same things that I did. I was a mess after we broke up, for a long time. I think the time it took for me to get over that break-up was more a reflection of how I was feeling about myself at the time than it was of the person I had been dating. I will always encourage my kids not to date someone they wouldn't consider marrying. Not that I want them heading into serious relationships very young. I just want to spare them some inevitable heartache that I could have saved myself if I had been more intentional about who I dated at that time.

After university I did a lot of things. I went on a mission trip to Honduras that changed my perspective forever. I was a nanny. I was a tutor. I was a youth leader. I was a childcare worker. I bought a car. I spent a lot of time with friends. I made new friends. I said goodbye to friends who moved away to start their careers. I dated a bit. I watched a lot of friends get married. I had a lot of fun. I learned what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. And then I went back to university.

My husband and I don't remember meeting each other. We lived in different cities, but had some friends in common. We had attended youth groups at different Wesleyan churches, and had probably met at youth rallies. But one day it just occurred to me that he had always been around. He was interested before I was. We went on one date, and I really wasn't interested in another one. He continued to ask me out until one day he asked if I was ever going to say yes. I said no. I changed my mind a few months later, and I'm lucky he gave me another chance. I still didn't treat him very well. I was terrified of getting into a serious relationship again, but this time I knew that it had a chance of lasting forever. I was afraid of letting him have my heart for a long time, but when I finally did, I was done. I knew I'd marry him long before he knew. He is an amazing man and a gift I treasure every day... even if I sometimes don't show it as I should.

We got married two years later, a week before I graduated from the B.Ed. program at UNB. I thought I wanted to have kids right away, because I had always wanted to be a mother more than anything. Chris wanted to wait two years, and I agreed. It ended up being nearly four years before, after two heartbreaking miscarriages, we finally had our son. As painful as that period in our lives was, I am truly grateful for those four carefree years that we had together, just as a couple, before the responsibility of parenting became the major focus of our lives. I love being a mom, but I think our marriage is better because we invested a lot of time just in each other before we had to invest so much of ourselves in our kids.

Except for a year spent in Kingston when Connor was two, we have raised our two awesome kids in Fredericton, in the company of a bunch of other great and godly families who were raising their kids right along with us. I am eternally grateful for the foundation those friendships gave us, and the support they give us even now, although we're far away. Yesterday I received a loving care package in the mail from a few of the best girlfriends I could ask for. I am loved, and I feel loved, even from a distance.

At forty-one I am many things. I am Chris's wife, Connor and Janelle's mom, Stan and Marilyn's daughter, Tracy and Brad's sister, an aunt to a bunch of precious kiddos, a teacher without a classroom, a neighbour, a parent volunteer, and a friend. I know beyond a doubt that I am a precious child of God. And I'm a blogger. This post has a lot of holes in it, but it holds the essence of me. If you didn't know me before, I think you have a pretty good handle now on who I really am. If you already know me, perhaps even you have learned something. I think maybe even I have.

Halloween on Westwick Walk

Our first Halloween in our new neighbourhood has come and gone, and we've all survived, and stocked up on enough sugar to keep the four of us on a high until Christmas. I had no idea how many "spooks" to prepare for here. My neighbour said that since this is a new street, the number increases every year. So I bought candy --- LOTS of candy. And we really didn't have that many trick-or-treaters at the door. Not nearly as many as we had on Crocket Street, anyway. I'm not someone who counts each bag I plop a candy into, but I would estimate we had around 80 kids at our door this year. Unfortunately, that means lots of candy left for me to munch on. And if it is made of chocolate, I am helpless to resist it!

Usually Connor and Janelle both know what they are going to be for Halloween long before the actual day arrives. Connor loves to get a costume and then make it even "cooler" with stuff he finds around the house. This year he had decided he wanted to be a werewolf. I almost gave in to actually making him a werewolf costume, but gave up after I couldn't find the right faux fur and realized it would really be quite a lot of work. I looked everywhere for a werewolf costume for him, but didn't find one until this week at the party store, where we found the perfect werewolf costume advertised -- for way more than I was willing to pay. Connor begged and pleaded and offered to pitch in half from his allowance, so I gave in — only to find that the "perfect werewolf costume" was sold out. We considered buying a mask and gloves and making the rest, but even that was so expensive I couldn't justify it unless Connor would be perfectly happy, and he didn't think he would be. So he resorted to an orange prisoners' jumpsuit. Much more economical. And as we found out Saturday afternoon when the zipper broke, CHEAP, CHEAP, CHEAP! Between Chris and I, we managed to fix the zipper temporarily — meaning until about five minutes before the trick-or-treating train was leaving. So out came the safety pins, which surprisingly, Connor was okay with. Needless to say, this is not a costume I'll be selling on Kijiji!

Janelle, on the other hand, knew what she was going to be for Halloween last Christmas. Aunt Tracy gave her a sweet Hannah Montana costume, which she used for dress up all year, but until a couple of weeks ago, still planned to wear on Halloween night. That's when Camryn from down the street arrived with a purple princess dress that she thought Janelle might like to wear for Halloween. First Janelle thought she might combine the two and be "Princess Hannah", but by Saturday she had decided that the Hannah wig had gotten way too messy to wear, and she really wanted curls in her hair. So yesterday around 4:30 we got out the curling iron and the hairspray and started attempting to curl my daughter's pin-straight hair. It took a lot of patience and bobby pins, but by 5:00 it looked adorable, and by 6:30 when they were ready to leave, a few of the curls were still in their places. Princess Janelle was happy anyway, and really, what else matters?

Chris and I divided up Halloween duty this year. He took our princess and escaped prisoner north up to the end of our subdivision and back to our house while I handed out candy, and then I took them south as far as the three of us could manage. I actually enjoy the fun part of Halloween. I hate the gruesome costumes and decorations, the horror movies on tv, and the desire to scare the living crap out of people. That isn't a holiday I want to celebrate with my kids. But carving pumpkins, fun costumes and some community commaraderie -- that's the part I can get into. I really enjoyed going door-to-door with the kids, visiting with my neighbours, and seeing what familiar faces from school live in which houses. I actually ended up travelling most of the way with my neighbour from across the street, who was dressed to the nines as a witch: green face, green hair, tall black hat, black dress, striped stockings and heels, while she pushed her baby in the stroller and followed her six-year-old Avatar from door-to-door. I had put on Janelle's Halloween headband with two orange and black pigtails, so we made quite a pair. My biggest struggle was getting Connor to wait for Janelle. He would have happily run around the whole neighbourhood if I had let him, and little Avatar was keeping up with him every step of the way. But just after 7:30, the baby started to cry and Janelle announced that she was done, so I sent my daughter home with the Wicked Witch of the West, and I soldiered on with the convict and Avatar. We arrived home at 8:00, to find most of the candy I had bought waiting for me.

Janelle, who is really amazingly self-aware for a seven-year-old, told me that she had already eaten her two pieces of candy and was ready to go to bed, and I had her tucked in and heard the story she wanted to read to me by 8:30. Connor, who would fight bedtime every step of the way, took a little longer, and was much more of a struggle to keep out of the candy, but by 9:15 he had settled down and we had finished reading a chapter of Harry Potter together.

Our first Halloween on Westwick Walk. Fun. Delicious. Exhausting. Over. Time to go put away the decorations for another year.

Tuesday Treadmill

Not a real treadmill. Sadly that is still leaning up against the wall in the basement waiting for its home to be completed. But on Tuesdays I feel like I'm on a treadmill!

In the morning, I'm in denial. I clean up the kitchen from breakfast and lunches while the tv drones on in the background (because I have to be in the mood for a quiet house). I might read a book, or catch up with friends on Facebook. I have a leisurely shower. Then I look at my to do list for the day. Usually it includes some shopping or laundry, and it always includes getting an easy dinner started for when the treadmill is really on a roll. Today it's crock pot beef stew. At three-thirty I either pick up the kids, or wait for them to be dropped off by my neighbour. Then I run through Janelle's piano lesson with her to make sure she has met all the goals for the week set by her teacher, and make sure she gets her homework done before we need to leave for her lesson. I also nag Connor to get through his homework right away because, hey, it's Tuesday! At 4:45 we head out to Janelle's piano lesson, at 5 o'clock, for half an hour. Sometimes I drop her off and come home to make sure dinner is ready for when we get home at 5:45. Today, since dinner is in the crock pot, I'll be taking Connor for a quick trip to Party Packagers to see if any of the Halloween costumes inspire him, since he still hasn't decided what he's going to be this year. Pick Janelle up at 5:30, run home and hope there's not much traffic, serve dinner. The kids program at the church starts at 6:30, so Connor and I drop Janelle off there. Usually I have to have Connor ready for basketball before we leave to drop Janelle off at the church, because while she's there I take him to Chris's office downtown so they can go to basketball at Mother Theresa High School, at the opposite end of town. Tonight we've decided that I'll take Connor to basketball myself, since I've never seen his new team play. Chris will come home and pick Janelle up at the church at 7:30, then bring her home and put her to bed. Connor's basketball goes until 8:30, when we begin the half hour trip home. At that point I expect I'll put Connor to bed and fall asleep myself. Two weeks ago when the boys got home I was already in bed. That's Tuesday!

By the way, Chris and I went to our community group last night and left Connor and Janelle with a sweet 13-year-old girl who lives just around the corner. They loved her. I loved that they loved her! And she's coming back next week! Yahoo! Maybe we'll actually plan a night out together one of these days. Ahhh... that's a whole other blog topic...

No Swimming this Summer!

I was already composing a post in my head about packing day, when I heard the door burst open and Janelle come in, tears streaming down her face and her arm held close to her body. She had fallen off her bike. Fine. Mom's prescription: a few kisses and some ice on it while snuggled up in front of her favourite TV show. After I had her settled somewhat comfortably, I came upstairs and dug out the suitcases. About 10 minutes later Chris, who just happened to be doing some work from home this morning, came up and said "Leanne, I'm not sure her arm is okay. It's really swelling and something doesn't seem right." I went down and checked it out, and I had to agree. Something just didn't seem right, and the pain didn't seem to be lessening at all. So off we went to the walk-in clinic, convinced I was only going so a doctor could reassure me that nothing was wrong.

Not so.

About three hours later, following a visit to an x-ray clinic and another to Children's Hospital, we arrived home with a cast on Janelle's precious little fractured arm, and instructions not to get it wet, and to somehow manage to get a referral to an orthopedic clinic in Fredericton next week, so she can get another x-ray and a new cast. Yep, this is just what we needed two days before we leave for NB!

I'm so proud of my daughter. She kept such a great attitude all day. There were no tears after the initial shock wore off. By the time we went for her x-ray she was even smiling! And when I told her she probably wouldn't be able to swim this summer (one of Janelle's all-time favourite things) she only slightly hesitated before saying "That's okay, Mommy. There are other fun things to do". What an amazing kid!

Hopefully she will only need the cast for four weeks. Unfortunately that means the four weeks of our trip to NB. But at least she would still be able to swim during our last three weeks of summer after we come back to London. If she can, I'll be doing everything I can to find her awesome swimming spots as much as possible! She deserves it! My brave little trooper!