Nourishment for the soul.
(That's what I'd call it.)
A safe place to rest awhile.
Their kitchen table and old friends.
Their kids, my kids, and food passed around.
My old friend - he makes my girl laugh like no one else does.
Inappropriate words tumble out - the ones he says best -
Just to get a laugh.
And laugh she does -
Until tears stream down her cheeks and she just. can't. stop.
Food for her soul.
(That's what I'd call it.)
"You're so beautiful"
My old friend says to my middle one.
"You're so smart too and that's important.
But you are beautiful."
And as she hears the words, her eyes shine as the corners of her lips turn up.
She sees me, she thinks.
Affirmation for the soul.
(That's what I'd call it.)
They laugh and run and ride some bikes.
Telling secrets and making plans.
"Truest friends", they say.
8 and 9 and full of life.
Making mischief with a water hose.
Dirty feet with smiles so wide.
Freedom for the soul.
(That's what I'd call it.)
I've loved him forever.
Little boy who is growing strong.
Finished grade 5 now.
Facing fears while passions grow.
He's too old for hugs.
Especially hugs for friends who are old.
Friends like me.
But tonight as my arms wrap around him,
And his around mine -
Even as he makes a face,
He squeezes me back as I squeeze him.
I stroke his cheek.
Nourishment for all of me.
(That's what I'd call it.)
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Bragging Rights
To post or not to post... that is the question.
Or at least it was for me last night.
I had tucked Ellie and Sasha into bed and was looking over the pictures I had taken of Hannah and her special friend Emily earlier in the evening. We had spent the evening at the grade 7-11 Awards night at Hannah's school. Earlier in the week we had received a call saying that Hannah was receiving an award so we should plan to be in attendance. I don't know a parent who doesn't like getting a phone call like that from school. Off we went to the auditorium and waited until the academic awards were handed out. Hannah got 5 awards for top mark in specific subjects, was on the honor roll with great distinction, and tied with her friend Emily for the highest overall average in grade 7.
It was all kinds of amazing.
But that's not really what this post is about.
While looking at the pictures of Emily, Hannah and their homeroom teacher, I was filled with overwhelming pride, gratitude and amazement. Pride that MY kid had achieved such amazing success through an amazing amount of hard work and dedication, gratitude for the fantastic and kind teachers she has had this year, and amazement for the fact that Hannah and Emily had the exact same overall average and were able to share the award.
I had emailed a few close friends and family to tell them Hannah's news but still felt like I wasn't finished revelling in my moment. I looked at the pictures again and thought I might share one on facebook. My immediate thought was, "you can't do that - it's bragging". This is usually the thought I have when I think of sharing successes my girls have. I rarely talk about marks, accomplishments or honors my girls receive. I'm not quite sure where that comes from. Part of it might be from the Mennonite tradition of not "tooting your own horn" or trying to make yourself look good.
Whenever the inner tension of sharing something that could be perceived as "bragging" comes up, I am always reminded of something my mom told me when I was a young adult: "I wished I had bragged more. You and your brother did so many great things, but I never talked about it or shared it because I didn't want it to look like it was bragging. Now that you're older, I wish I could go back and brag." More often than not, even after those lines my mom spoke are replayed in my head, I still choose not to share. This time I felt different.
I thought of how this was Hannah's first year back at her old school. I thought of all of the readjustment she had to make with friends, teachers, and routines. I remembered how small her school was in Burnaby, and how the expectations and demands on students were far far less than they are at our school in Winnipeg. I remembered thinking about how worried I was that Hannah was going to struggle and find the academic load difficult when we moved back. I thought of the way she managed her own homework and test schedule without guidance or help from me... the way she worked on assignments late into the night and finished math homework early in the morning, especially on nights she'd been babysitting. I thought of the creative and inventive way she approached her writing and assignments. I thought of the amazing ways she'd grown and matured and took ownership of her academic career, and how amazed I was at it all. Then I thought of the amazing way that things work out and Hannah found herself up on stage with Emily - both enjoying the award for the highest average together.
After that jumble of thoughts my first reaction was to say, "Damn straight she's smart and she worked hard. I want to celebrate her and this is how I'm going to do it". Up went the picture onto facebook with a short and simple sentence about the beauty of getting to share the award with her best friend. As I hit "post" I felt the tension rising in me again. Don't brag. Don't show-off. Don't draw attention to yourself. I had to physically stop myself from taking down the picture. I needed to leave it up.
I read some things today that made me question my decision. Thoughts and comments from people who are tired of moms who brag about their kids. I shared this with some of my classmates after my class tonight. One of my friends, Kristine, reminded me of how when someone says something, they sometimes put a negative emotion out in front of me and offer it up to me to take and receive. It's my choice as to whether I want to receive the emotion and make it part of me or not. In this case, I had let it rob my joy. I had let it take away my delight in sharing something worth celebrating.
Tonight, as I write this just before heading to bed, I'm going to look at that picture and post and own every ounce of bragging it might contain. Some things are just worth bragging about. This is one of them. I'm just warming up.
Or at least it was for me last night.
I had tucked Ellie and Sasha into bed and was looking over the pictures I had taken of Hannah and her special friend Emily earlier in the evening. We had spent the evening at the grade 7-11 Awards night at Hannah's school. Earlier in the week we had received a call saying that Hannah was receiving an award so we should plan to be in attendance. I don't know a parent who doesn't like getting a phone call like that from school. Off we went to the auditorium and waited until the academic awards were handed out. Hannah got 5 awards for top mark in specific subjects, was on the honor roll with great distinction, and tied with her friend Emily for the highest overall average in grade 7.
It was all kinds of amazing.
But that's not really what this post is about.
While looking at the pictures of Emily, Hannah and their homeroom teacher, I was filled with overwhelming pride, gratitude and amazement. Pride that MY kid had achieved such amazing success through an amazing amount of hard work and dedication, gratitude for the fantastic and kind teachers she has had this year, and amazement for the fact that Hannah and Emily had the exact same overall average and were able to share the award.
I had emailed a few close friends and family to tell them Hannah's news but still felt like I wasn't finished revelling in my moment. I looked at the pictures again and thought I might share one on facebook. My immediate thought was, "you can't do that - it's bragging". This is usually the thought I have when I think of sharing successes my girls have. I rarely talk about marks, accomplishments or honors my girls receive. I'm not quite sure where that comes from. Part of it might be from the Mennonite tradition of not "tooting your own horn" or trying to make yourself look good.
Whenever the inner tension of sharing something that could be perceived as "bragging" comes up, I am always reminded of something my mom told me when I was a young adult: "I wished I had bragged more. You and your brother did so many great things, but I never talked about it or shared it because I didn't want it to look like it was bragging. Now that you're older, I wish I could go back and brag." More often than not, even after those lines my mom spoke are replayed in my head, I still choose not to share. This time I felt different.
I thought of how this was Hannah's first year back at her old school. I thought of all of the readjustment she had to make with friends, teachers, and routines. I remembered how small her school was in Burnaby, and how the expectations and demands on students were far far less than they are at our school in Winnipeg. I remembered thinking about how worried I was that Hannah was going to struggle and find the academic load difficult when we moved back. I thought of the way she managed her own homework and test schedule without guidance or help from me... the way she worked on assignments late into the night and finished math homework early in the morning, especially on nights she'd been babysitting. I thought of the creative and inventive way she approached her writing and assignments. I thought of the amazing ways she'd grown and matured and took ownership of her academic career, and how amazed I was at it all. Then I thought of the amazing way that things work out and Hannah found herself up on stage with Emily - both enjoying the award for the highest average together.
After that jumble of thoughts my first reaction was to say, "Damn straight she's smart and she worked hard. I want to celebrate her and this is how I'm going to do it". Up went the picture onto facebook with a short and simple sentence about the beauty of getting to share the award with her best friend. As I hit "post" I felt the tension rising in me again. Don't brag. Don't show-off. Don't draw attention to yourself. I had to physically stop myself from taking down the picture. I needed to leave it up.
I read some things today that made me question my decision. Thoughts and comments from people who are tired of moms who brag about their kids. I shared this with some of my classmates after my class tonight. One of my friends, Kristine, reminded me of how when someone says something, they sometimes put a negative emotion out in front of me and offer it up to me to take and receive. It's my choice as to whether I want to receive the emotion and make it part of me or not. In this case, I had let it rob my joy. I had let it take away my delight in sharing something worth celebrating.
Tonight, as I write this just before heading to bed, I'm going to look at that picture and post and own every ounce of bragging it might contain. Some things are just worth bragging about. This is one of them. I'm just warming up.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Random Round-up (The Home Stretch Edition)
I didn't used to like the smell of lilacs but now I do.
In our yard, we have a Little Leaf Lilac that was grafted together with a tree to make a short little tree with a beautiful round top of lilacs. We planted that tree for Ellie the summer after she was born.
Sadly, the Chokecherry tree with planted for Hannah the first summer we lived in this house has been hit with a nasty case of Black Knot disease. It's ugly. Hopefully we can save it.
Poor Sasha doesn't have a tree. The third kid always gets shafted. Hopefully we'll rectify this by the end of the summer. Yes, she will be seeking therapy.
You have no idea how tired I am of making school lunches.
You have no idea of how tired my kids probably are of eating their school lunches.
Monday's are "weird lunch" days around these parts. It's the day I go grocery shopping, so they get whatever is considered edible. It doesn't have to make sense - it just has to be able to be consumed.
I can't believe how much I love Havarti cheese.
One thing I missed when we lived in BC was my Rhubarb plant. I've got the most amazing pink and red Rhubarb. I think that it tastes better than green. I know there's no difference, but to me there is. My favorite dessert in the entire world is probably the one with the shortbread crust, the rhubarb custard layer and then meringue on top. I can't stop eating it once I start. Rhubarb Crisp and ice-cream also makes me very happy.
This house is kind of small for all 5 of us. We didn't think we'd still be here by this point in the game. But then we fell in love with our neighbors and the neighborhood. I know we could use more space, but the other day I had the thought that bigger spaces just acquire more "stuff". This house is small and has very little storage. You can't keep stuff that you aren't going to use.
I love that my girls are old enough to let me sleep in during summer holidays. I'm giddy in anticipation!
I'm one week away from being finished the first year of my Master's program!
I'm seriously looking for a new job for the fall. Let me know if you have one for me!
I am, by nature, a very lazy person.
I just finished reading the most amazing book Does Jesus Really Love Me: A Gay Christian's Pilgrimage in Search of God in America by Jeff Chu. I can't say enough good about it. You should read it.
Why do I hate emptying a clean dishwasher so much?
Pistachio gelato is my favorite.
We are going to BC in August. I can't wait. I am so excited to hug people, laugh and cry with some of my dearest friends, and dip my toes into the ocean again. I am afraid that leaving again will be painful.
Nearly every morning I crawl into Sasha's bed and snuggle with her under her quilt to make the day not come quite as fast.
Sleeping is my favorite leisure activity.
How can you not like crunchy peanut butter?
Hannah has really amazing friends that make her feel good about herself. How could you ever put a price on something like that?
I have a deep and abiding love for the Roasted Garlic and Chili Aioli from Costco.
Mike is still really obsessed with Rush.
After years of people telling her to read Harry Potter, Hannah relented and is now obsessed. Completely obsessed. She read book 5 in 2 days and is now devouring book 6. After getting her braces on last week and being tormented by pain and agony she remarked that she had no idea how she'd get through that ordeal without Harry. Nothing makes me happier than seeing my kids fully and passionately engaged in a story.
"You were right" are some pretty sweet words coming from your 13 year old's mouth.
Libraries are the greatest offering to tax payers on the planet.
I love new school supplies! I abhor the old school supplies and piles of papers and things that come home from school at the end of June.
I get to go to the Taylor Swift concert with Hannah on Saturday.
I'm trying to answer the phone more often.
I hope I will write on this blog more often now that I'm not writing for school for two months.
Some friends and I are already planning our 40th Birthday trip even though it's more than a year away.
I really don't want Boston to win the Stanley Cup.
One of my favorite things to do is to wash my girls feet when they are really dirty at the end of a long day of playing outside and running around barefoot. I run a bit of water into the tub and they sit on the edge. After they've soaked I squeeze the soap onto their foot and massage it around, loving the look of the dirty bubbles. After a rinse, I dry them off in a warm fluffy towel and marvel at the transformation.
I also like to clip my girls nails and clean their ears. I know, I've got issues.
I suppose I just love the old becoming new.
In our yard, we have a Little Leaf Lilac that was grafted together with a tree to make a short little tree with a beautiful round top of lilacs. We planted that tree for Ellie the summer after she was born.
Sadly, the Chokecherry tree with planted for Hannah the first summer we lived in this house has been hit with a nasty case of Black Knot disease. It's ugly. Hopefully we can save it.
Poor Sasha doesn't have a tree. The third kid always gets shafted. Hopefully we'll rectify this by the end of the summer. Yes, she will be seeking therapy.
You have no idea how tired I am of making school lunches.
You have no idea of how tired my kids probably are of eating their school lunches.
Monday's are "weird lunch" days around these parts. It's the day I go grocery shopping, so they get whatever is considered edible. It doesn't have to make sense - it just has to be able to be consumed.
I can't believe how much I love Havarti cheese.
One thing I missed when we lived in BC was my Rhubarb plant. I've got the most amazing pink and red Rhubarb. I think that it tastes better than green. I know there's no difference, but to me there is. My favorite dessert in the entire world is probably the one with the shortbread crust, the rhubarb custard layer and then meringue on top. I can't stop eating it once I start. Rhubarb Crisp and ice-cream also makes me very happy.
This house is kind of small for all 5 of us. We didn't think we'd still be here by this point in the game. But then we fell in love with our neighbors and the neighborhood. I know we could use more space, but the other day I had the thought that bigger spaces just acquire more "stuff". This house is small and has very little storage. You can't keep stuff that you aren't going to use.
I love that my girls are old enough to let me sleep in during summer holidays. I'm giddy in anticipation!
I'm one week away from being finished the first year of my Master's program!
I'm seriously looking for a new job for the fall. Let me know if you have one for me!
I am, by nature, a very lazy person.
I just finished reading the most amazing book Does Jesus Really Love Me: A Gay Christian's Pilgrimage in Search of God in America by Jeff Chu. I can't say enough good about it. You should read it.
Why do I hate emptying a clean dishwasher so much?
Pistachio gelato is my favorite.
We are going to BC in August. I can't wait. I am so excited to hug people, laugh and cry with some of my dearest friends, and dip my toes into the ocean again. I am afraid that leaving again will be painful.
Nearly every morning I crawl into Sasha's bed and snuggle with her under her quilt to make the day not come quite as fast.
Sleeping is my favorite leisure activity.
How can you not like crunchy peanut butter?
Hannah has really amazing friends that make her feel good about herself. How could you ever put a price on something like that?
I have a deep and abiding love for the Roasted Garlic and Chili Aioli from Costco.
Mike is still really obsessed with Rush.
After years of people telling her to read Harry Potter, Hannah relented and is now obsessed. Completely obsessed. She read book 5 in 2 days and is now devouring book 6. After getting her braces on last week and being tormented by pain and agony she remarked that she had no idea how she'd get through that ordeal without Harry. Nothing makes me happier than seeing my kids fully and passionately engaged in a story.
"You were right" are some pretty sweet words coming from your 13 year old's mouth.
Libraries are the greatest offering to tax payers on the planet.
I love new school supplies! I abhor the old school supplies and piles of papers and things that come home from school at the end of June.
I get to go to the Taylor Swift concert with Hannah on Saturday.
I'm trying to answer the phone more often.
I hope I will write on this blog more often now that I'm not writing for school for two months.
Some friends and I are already planning our 40th Birthday trip even though it's more than a year away.
I really don't want Boston to win the Stanley Cup.
One of my favorite things to do is to wash my girls feet when they are really dirty at the end of a long day of playing outside and running around barefoot. I run a bit of water into the tub and they sit on the edge. After they've soaked I squeeze the soap onto their foot and massage it around, loving the look of the dirty bubbles. After a rinse, I dry them off in a warm fluffy towel and marvel at the transformation.
I also like to clip my girls nails and clean their ears. I know, I've got issues.
I suppose I just love the old becoming new.
Monday, June 3, 2013
I'm Sorry - Pride 2013
Yesterday afternoon I took part in my first Pride Parade.
The lead-up to it has been years in the making.
Though I have never had homophobic thoughts, feelings, or attitudes -
I am part of something bigger that has.
The church universal has a long and sordid history of shaming, hurting, rejecting, limiting, judging, and in some cases, even hating, members of the LGBTQ community. Though much of this has taken place in conversations and sermons, letters and Bible Studies, some of it has been done with words printed on signs. Words of hatred and venom. (Fred Phelps, anyone?)
This was the second year that a group of Winnipeger's decided to physically make the presence of the church known at a Pride event. Not to say, "you're wrong", or "if you'd change....", or something even stronger and much more hurtful. The point was to say, "We're Sorry". We're sorry for the way the church has hurt you. We're sorry for the way Christians have used the Bible as a weapon against you. We're sorry for putting conditions on you. We're sorry for standing in judgement of you and making you feel afraid, shameful, or "less than". On behalf of the church... we're sorry.
Parades are celebrations. And so this motley group of Winnipeger's met up on Saturday night at our friends Jamie and Kim Arpin-Ricci's and the hub of Little Flower's Community and shared a meal together. We ate, we played, we talked, and we got our craft on and made some signs. Everyone who wanted to be was included. Even our girls. And though they personally have nothing to be sorry for, they understand how words can hurt, debilitate and immobilize you.
We met up at the Legislative grounds on a beautiful sunny afternoon, and got ready to take our place as the parade passed us by.
It really was a celebration.
As soon as the parade began, I was significantly impacted by what I saw and experienced.
Near the beginning, there were two middle-aged women walking hand in hand. One had her head on her partner's shoulder and was openly sobbing as she passed us by.
There were huge crowds of people walking together. A mish-mash of members of the LGBTQ community, allies, family members and friends.
There were older people and teenagers. Lots of teenagers. Amazingly, there were plenty of GSA's represented which made me so proud. Despite all of the controversy, fear, anger, and disapproval, they were strong and brave enough to walk tall in the parade.
There was creativity.
There were high-fives and smiles.
Lots of waves and "thank you's".
Free hugs were also in abundance.
Parade-walkers snapped pictures. I hope to think they wanted a memory of the words - the apology, and the spirit from which they came.
There were babies and dogs and toddlers. I was thrilled to see lots of school-age kids.
Imagine the different world our kids are going to be growing up in!
There were friends that I could call out from the crowd and share hugs with.
I had lots of emotional moments during the parade. One stands out for me the most...
Two young women holding hands walked toward me and smiled. One, through tears said, "can I have a hug?". I wrapped my arms around her and she said, "Oh my god. You have no idea how much this means to me." I told Mike and when I got back to my post and we shared a tear and then continued to wave our flags and hold up our signs.
There is so much to say "I'm sorry" for.
The atmosphere really was one of celebration. Celebrating who you are. Celebrating the relationships that fill you with love. Celebrating a community that has endured. Only 21 years ago at the first Pride parade in Winnipeg, paper bags were passed out before the event so that anyone who wanted to remain hidden could do so. 20,000 smiling walkers in the parade tell me we've come a long way.
But we still have a long way to go.
On our "I'm Sorry" facebook page today, someone who walked by as part of the parade left this as part of a message:
"After years of being out of the closet and working in both education and advocacy to make the world a better place for all LGBTTQ and allied folks, the impact of the importance of movements like yours hit in a way that I never expected.
I somehow felt a touch of the weight of all that we as humans do to each other that is hurtful - and the importance of doing something positive about it, regardless of who we are and where we stand on any issue.
The power of an apology is amazing and even though I don't think I have met any of you personally, your presence and willingness to apologize for a history that you have inherited was truly appreciated."
I somehow felt a touch of the weight of all that we as humans do to each other that is hurtful - and the importance of doing something positive about it, regardless of who we are and where we stand on any issue.
The power of an apology is amazing and even though I don't think I have met any of you personally, your presence and willingness to apologize for a history that you have inherited was truly appreciated."
I was humbled and impacted and made better by sharing in the celebration yesterday.
I was so thankful to have my family with me.
Our girls are growing up appreciating, celebrating and honoring diversity.
Hopefully by the time they are adults, their generation will have far less to be sorry for.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
If I Wasn't A Mom....
- I wouldn't know that you can go nights on end with little to no sleep and still be able to function.
- I wouldn't know my way around every nook and cranny of the Children's section of the Louis Riel Library.
- I wouldn't know I had the capacity to make loud guttural yells that could wake a neighborhood.
- I wouldn't have as much practice as I've had saying sorry.
- I wouldn't know how quickly and completely your kids forgive you.
- I wouldn't have beautiful long hair to braid.
- I wouldn't be able to catch myself in someone else's face and smile for just a moment.
- I wouldn't have the perfectexcuse reason to avoid social situations when I feel like I just can't do it.
- I wouldn't be going to see Taylor Swift this summer.
- I wouldn't know nearly every word to every song Raffi ever wrote.
- I wouldn't know the smell of grass and sweat and tears and toothpaste all rolled into one.
- I wouldn't know the juxtaposition of sadness and joy over watching someone grow.
- I wouldn't have an audience whenever I need one.
- I wouldn't know how much sorrow you can feel when you see someone hurting.
- I'd have more time for myself.
- I'd probably feel like something was missing.
- I'd eat less Nutella.
- I wouldn't lie in bed at night wondering how badly I'm screwing up.
- I wouldn't know fear the same way I do now.
- I'd do way less laundry.
- I wouldn't have anyone to play Playmobil with.
- I wouldn't know that a little body fits perfectly beside yours.
- I wouldn't believe you could love three completely different people exactly the same.
- I wouldn't have my buttons pushed as often.
- I wouldn't be driving a van.
- I would miss being the witness to seeing the most amazing growth happen.
- I'd wonder what I was born to do.
- I wouldn't know my way around every nook and cranny of the Children's section of the Louis Riel Library.
- I wouldn't know I had the capacity to make loud guttural yells that could wake a neighborhood.
- I wouldn't have as much practice as I've had saying sorry.
- I wouldn't know how quickly and completely your kids forgive you.
- I wouldn't have beautiful long hair to braid.
- I wouldn't be able to catch myself in someone else's face and smile for just a moment.
- I wouldn't have the perfect
- I wouldn't be going to see Taylor Swift this summer.
- I wouldn't know nearly every word to every song Raffi ever wrote.
- I wouldn't know the smell of grass and sweat and tears and toothpaste all rolled into one.
- I wouldn't know the juxtaposition of sadness and joy over watching someone grow.
- I wouldn't have an audience whenever I need one.
- I wouldn't know how much sorrow you can feel when you see someone hurting.
- I'd have more time for myself.
- I'd probably feel like something was missing.
- I'd eat less Nutella.
- I wouldn't lie in bed at night wondering how badly I'm screwing up.
- I wouldn't know fear the same way I do now.
- I'd do way less laundry.
- I wouldn't have anyone to play Playmobil with.
- I wouldn't know that a little body fits perfectly beside yours.
- I wouldn't believe you could love three completely different people exactly the same.
- I wouldn't have my buttons pushed as often.
- I wouldn't be driving a van.
- I would miss being the witness to seeing the most amazing growth happen.
- I'd wonder what I was born to do.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Cry If You Want To
One of my favorite songs has always been Holly Cole's "Cry If You Want To".
The last line of the song goes like this....
Cry if you want to, I won't tell you not to
I won't try to cheer you up, I'll just be here if you
Want me,
To be,
Near you.
I've been singing that song today.
For Ellie.
At the girl's school, every student in grade 3-8 takes part in a speech contest each year. That means that each student must write a speech, prepare it, and present it to their class. The top two speeches in each class go on to the finals where the winners compete against the other finalists from their grade.
Ellie already knew last year what she wanted her speech to be about.
It was going to be about her deep love and affection for her dear beloved friend, Nikki - who she left behind in BC, with a trail of tears. You can read a little bit about Ellie's friendship with Nikki here and here.
Words can't really describe how deeply Ellie feels about Nikki.
Nikki is really a part of Ellie and who she is. In all my life, I don't think anything has touched me more than seeing Ellie say goodbye to Nikki when we moved back to Winnipeg. Immediately after, Ellie followed us into our empty house and collapsed onto the floor and then into our arms sobbing as though her heart were breaking. There are pictures of Nikki up all over our house. Ellie still talks like Nikki talked and laughs at the things she said. There have been mornings when Ellie wakes up crying and tells me she has had a dream about Nikki and it's made her miss her all over again.
So when Ellie said she wanted to write her speech about Nikki, I knew it was right.
She drew graphic organizers and planning maps of how she wanted to organize her speech to include all of the things she wanted to share about Nikki. Her likes and dislikes, her favourite foods, her love of the swings, the ways she looks and talks, and all about how Kabuki Syndrome has affected her.
When she finished writing, she was so proud. It was though this speech represented so much more than a requirement for grade 3. It was a labour of love, and it honored Nikki and her role in Ellie's life. It was perfect.
Ellie painstakingly practiced her speech. She had it memorized and perfected and said it with great joy for her classmates and teacher. A few days later she was asked to say it again for her other teacher along with 2 other students - as all three were tied for top spot. Only two could be chosen to go on to the finals and a decision had to be made. Ellie rehearsed and worked on her speech again, and said it with pride a few days ago.
I knew that today was the day Ellie was going to find out which two students were going to go on to the finals from her class. In the afternoon I got an email from her dear teacher, telling me that she had just broke the hard news to Ellie that the other two students had been chosen instead of Ellie. She wanted to let me know that Ellie was terribly disappointed and had been crying. In fact, she'd been hugging and crying with Ellie but thought Ellie needed some hugs and extra love from me.
My heart sunk.
I knew how badly Ellie had wanted to present her speech in the finals. I knew how much she wanted to honor her friendship with Nikki. I knew how hard she'd worked. I knew her heart would be broken.
I drove to school early to be with Ellie and I found her waiting for me in a chair in the office. The second she saw me, she collapsed into my arms, lay her head on my shoulder and sobbed. Gigantic tears spilled from her eyes as she held on for dear life. All I could do was stand with her and hold her tight and cry with her. If you knew Ellie, you'd have cried too. When she cries heart-broken tears there is nothing sadder.
I held her there, for awhile, and we cried together. I didn't try to stop her and I didn't care.
I remember being ashamed of my tears all through my childhood.
They came easy and fast and at all the wrong times.
I hated my tears.
But now mine mixed with hers and I tried to honor them by standing in a public place, with people around and letting them fall.
We walked arm and arm to our van and I held her awhile longer in private.
She was disappointed, I knew.
But she was crying tears for more than a lost speech contest.
That speech was about far more than winning a trophy.
They were also about a hole in her heart.
Ellie's tears have been flowing on and off for the rest of the day.
At bedtime they began their silent roll down her brown cheeks, and I climbed up into her bunk bed and held her awhile longer, not saying anything but I love you.
Sometimes that's all you can say.
I'll just be here if you
want me,
to be,
near you.
The last line of the song goes like this....
Cry if you want to, I won't tell you not to
I won't try to cheer you up, I'll just be here if you
Want me,
To be,
Near you.
I've been singing that song today.
For Ellie.
At the girl's school, every student in grade 3-8 takes part in a speech contest each year. That means that each student must write a speech, prepare it, and present it to their class. The top two speeches in each class go on to the finals where the winners compete against the other finalists from their grade.
Ellie already knew last year what she wanted her speech to be about.
It was going to be about her deep love and affection for her dear beloved friend, Nikki - who she left behind in BC, with a trail of tears. You can read a little bit about Ellie's friendship with Nikki here and here.
Words can't really describe how deeply Ellie feels about Nikki.
Nikki is really a part of Ellie and who she is. In all my life, I don't think anything has touched me more than seeing Ellie say goodbye to Nikki when we moved back to Winnipeg. Immediately after, Ellie followed us into our empty house and collapsed onto the floor and then into our arms sobbing as though her heart were breaking. There are pictures of Nikki up all over our house. Ellie still talks like Nikki talked and laughs at the things she said. There have been mornings when Ellie wakes up crying and tells me she has had a dream about Nikki and it's made her miss her all over again.
So when Ellie said she wanted to write her speech about Nikki, I knew it was right.
She drew graphic organizers and planning maps of how she wanted to organize her speech to include all of the things she wanted to share about Nikki. Her likes and dislikes, her favourite foods, her love of the swings, the ways she looks and talks, and all about how Kabuki Syndrome has affected her.
When she finished writing, she was so proud. It was though this speech represented so much more than a requirement for grade 3. It was a labour of love, and it honored Nikki and her role in Ellie's life. It was perfect.
Ellie painstakingly practiced her speech. She had it memorized and perfected and said it with great joy for her classmates and teacher. A few days later she was asked to say it again for her other teacher along with 2 other students - as all three were tied for top spot. Only two could be chosen to go on to the finals and a decision had to be made. Ellie rehearsed and worked on her speech again, and said it with pride a few days ago.
I knew that today was the day Ellie was going to find out which two students were going to go on to the finals from her class. In the afternoon I got an email from her dear teacher, telling me that she had just broke the hard news to Ellie that the other two students had been chosen instead of Ellie. She wanted to let me know that Ellie was terribly disappointed and had been crying. In fact, she'd been hugging and crying with Ellie but thought Ellie needed some hugs and extra love from me.
My heart sunk.
I knew how badly Ellie had wanted to present her speech in the finals. I knew how much she wanted to honor her friendship with Nikki. I knew how hard she'd worked. I knew her heart would be broken.
I drove to school early to be with Ellie and I found her waiting for me in a chair in the office. The second she saw me, she collapsed into my arms, lay her head on my shoulder and sobbed. Gigantic tears spilled from her eyes as she held on for dear life. All I could do was stand with her and hold her tight and cry with her. If you knew Ellie, you'd have cried too. When she cries heart-broken tears there is nothing sadder.
I held her there, for awhile, and we cried together. I didn't try to stop her and I didn't care.
I remember being ashamed of my tears all through my childhood.
They came easy and fast and at all the wrong times.
I hated my tears.
But now mine mixed with hers and I tried to honor them by standing in a public place, with people around and letting them fall.
We walked arm and arm to our van and I held her awhile longer in private.
She was disappointed, I knew.
But she was crying tears for more than a lost speech contest.
That speech was about far more than winning a trophy.
They were also about a hole in her heart.
Ellie's tears have been flowing on and off for the rest of the day.
At bedtime they began their silent roll down her brown cheeks, and I climbed up into her bunk bed and held her awhile longer, not saying anything but I love you.
Sometimes that's all you can say.
I'll just be here if you
want me,
to be,
near you.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Sasha Long Legs
Sasha still likes to sit on my lap sometimes. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it a whole lot more than she does. She's the youngest and it's no mistake that I often call her "baby". In my head and my spirit she will always be the baby. Just a day or so ago Sasha was on my lap sitting with her back pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around her. For the first time, her legs caught me by surprise. They hung down, one on each side of my own legs and nearly touched the ground. They are long, lean, and strong. When she tries to curl up on my lap her legs fold and bend to let me wrap my arms around the whole of her. I can hardly reach around them as the little "ball" she used to be able to contort herself into isn't as tiny as it once was. Her legs are growing and so is she.
When Hannah, Ellie and Sasha were little I prided myself in how our girls went to bed without any back-rubs, snuggles, or cuddling. A story, a prayer, a kiss and "I love you" and it was done. Lights out, door closed, sleep now. They were trained well and I patted myself on the back for my fortitude and discipline in teaching them how it should be done.
Lately Sasha has been asking for me to rub her back for a few minutes as she's falling asleep. Most nights I say I'll do it for 2 minutes while I sit on the side of her bed. But there are times when she can't sleep and I have the time, that I will crawl in beside her, under her flannel quilt and burrow my nose into the nape of her neck and spoon my body behind hers. I rub her back and her legs and breath in the smell of shampoo, little-girl sweat, laundry soap, and the mystery smell that each of your kids has that you can't put your finger on. Maybe that smell isn't as delicious as they get older, but when they're still as little as Sasha is, it is a lovely thing. I stay by her side and rub her back and legs in a circular pattern while keeping my nose pressed up against her neck. Her body is warm and tired from a long day of learning and living. Her breath gets slower and her body rises up and down and soon you can feel the heaviness of sleep overtake her.
It's in those minutes curled up in the bottom bunk that I've been marking as sacred. Those long legs grew faster than I was expecting. Her body takes a lot more of my arm length to stretch around. I look at Ellie and all 5 feet 8 inches of Hannah - growing, growing, growing and I wish I had said "yes" more often to back rubs and snuggles and breathing in their scents as sleep came slowly. I wish I had taken less pride in the closed door and the quiet child and more time to listen to their breath.
People always said time would move fast. Sometimes I willed it to move faster. Those long legs beg me to stop and give them a rub. They've got some growing left to do.
When Hannah, Ellie and Sasha were little I prided myself in how our girls went to bed without any back-rubs, snuggles, or cuddling. A story, a prayer, a kiss and "I love you" and it was done. Lights out, door closed, sleep now. They were trained well and I patted myself on the back for my fortitude and discipline in teaching them how it should be done.
Lately Sasha has been asking for me to rub her back for a few minutes as she's falling asleep. Most nights I say I'll do it for 2 minutes while I sit on the side of her bed. But there are times when she can't sleep and I have the time, that I will crawl in beside her, under her flannel quilt and burrow my nose into the nape of her neck and spoon my body behind hers. I rub her back and her legs and breath in the smell of shampoo, little-girl sweat, laundry soap, and the mystery smell that each of your kids has that you can't put your finger on. Maybe that smell isn't as delicious as they get older, but when they're still as little as Sasha is, it is a lovely thing. I stay by her side and rub her back and legs in a circular pattern while keeping my nose pressed up against her neck. Her body is warm and tired from a long day of learning and living. Her breath gets slower and her body rises up and down and soon you can feel the heaviness of sleep overtake her.
It's in those minutes curled up in the bottom bunk that I've been marking as sacred. Those long legs grew faster than I was expecting. Her body takes a lot more of my arm length to stretch around. I look at Ellie and all 5 feet 8 inches of Hannah - growing, growing, growing and I wish I had said "yes" more often to back rubs and snuggles and breathing in their scents as sleep came slowly. I wish I had taken less pride in the closed door and the quiet child and more time to listen to their breath.
People always said time would move fast. Sometimes I willed it to move faster. Those long legs beg me to stop and give them a rub. They've got some growing left to do.
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