Winter Wonderland

Winter isn't coming.  Winter has arrived.

It's November...and it's the first snow day for the kids.  Buses are cancelled in our school district and although schools are open for business, my girl is not one of the "lucky" ones to be in attendance. No, I made sure she made it to daycare, with her school lunch and school bag because I didn't check my phone for notifications of the cancellations which I should have assumed were coming due to the road conditions. I even started out earlier so that I would be on time at the daycare, driving slowly down snow covered roads, windswept with more snow and in poor visibility.  My question really is Why? Why do I, and so many others around me, place such loyalty in getting to our work on a day like today? It's ONE day and although my job duties can't all be performed from home, I could still take the day - rest and be safe - but instead, I risk the roads and hope for the best.  It won't be the last time I do it either.  My cleaning lady did though (yes I have a cleaning lady!) and so she should.  My house is not a priority in her life, her safety is more important.

I should have stayed in bed and enjoyed a day with my children.

I didn't and now I'm paying for my mistake: I forgot my keys to the parking garage and have to pay for parking, I spilled my coffee, left my work pass at home and I can't check a temporary visitor pass out because I had one on Friday that I also forgot at home...

Maybe it's not just today, but every day.

On the plus side, it is beautiful with snow and with Christmas a month away, I don't mind.

But I should have stayed in bed.

Reflection

I'm struggling with how quickly Emma is growing up. Just yesterday she was a baby on my arm and now she's leading me around the world full of wonders, pre-teen shows, Barbie dolls, chapter books, and eye-rolls when I don't understand how wearing a specific t-shirt is a must when dressing up for Favourite Character Day at school and she's going as Gabriella from High School Musical.

 

In a week, my little girl is turning 6. To me, 6 is the age when you leave the baby and toddler years behind. This is the year she starts Grade 1 in the fall, the year she's most likely to ask and get her ears pierced (if she can get over the fact that it will hurt for a little tiny bit), the year when life starts to go beyond just the confines of her known life.

 

In the past three months, since the new school semester started, she's learned to tie her shoes, read books without pictures, eat with chopsticks, skate un-aided, get an incredible report card, draw without throwing her pencil (well, that might still occur on occasion). I'm watching her grow at such an incredible speed that I'm having a hard time keeping up.

 

She's so much like me in personality. She sleeps like me even! She hates mornings but could stay up until the cows come home in the morning, as long as she can lounge in bed, she's a happy camper. Speaking of Happy. When the Tim Horton's cashier says to her dad, "Wow, that kid sure is a happy kid!" you can't help but feel proud. It must be one of the biggest compliment parent can get about their child - how happy they seem and act. Disregard the glowing report card or the reading level she demonstrates, the fact that she's happy makes me feel like I've done the right thing by her.

 

Her mannerisms are mine. The way she talks with her hands, the way she interrupts to ask a second question before the first one is answered. The way she absolutely loves certain things but dislike others with equal passion. How she interacts with others and the compassion she feels towards her friends and when others are sad, she’s sad along with them.

 

The other day I was having a moment with missing my grandmother.  We were reading a book that Emma had received as a present some years ago. My beloved grandmother had gone out to the local Swedish bookstore and ordered an English version of a Swedish children’s book because I never taught Emma Swedish.  In the book was an inscription in my grandmother’s scraggly handwriting – To my Dearest Emma, love Great-Grandmother.

 

It made me cry to think of how much my grandmother loved me and Emma and how incredibly grateful I am for having all those wonderful memories of taking Emma to Sweden with me to see her when I had the chance. Emma dealt with my little breakdown like a veteran counselor, patting my arm, handing me a Kleenex and stating “Oh mom, it’s ok to miss your mom and grandma”.  It made me smile through my tears.

 

Turning 6 means she’s ready for so much more.  I have to be ready as well.  So here we go.  Wish us luck.  A new world awaits.

Be Present

A newfound friend of mine made me think of my blog.  Perhaps it is time to start writing again and considering the time of year, it is the time of my reflection period and consideration for the past, present and future. 

 

I will not reflect on where I've been lately.  It is far too much to touch pen to paper for (or fingers to keyboard in this age!).  Reflections are for me alone, in my head and in my meditative state.

 

I will say this.  New beginnings and new friendships have brought me much joy so far this year.  I am managing my grief with more ease than ever before in the past 14 years.  

 

I am valuing my moments of solitude and take comfort in the times I'm surrounded by friends and family. 

 

I experienced grief through another person's eyes recently.  It was an incredible moment to take part in something that wasn't my own grief but being able to support and comfort those that was affected by it.  The joyous memories were plenty but the ones that hurt where far more severe to make the good ones shine through at times.  What struck me as incredible was the massive amount of outpouring support for those left behind.  Where I come from, we go to funerals to show respect for the dead, not to support the living struggling with grief.  It made me realize that we as people, most often forget the amazing ability we have to comfort and support, just by being present. 

 

Be present.  In every day life, in waking moments even when you don't feel like being there.  Know that your presence is valued by others and that your actions, however small, play a significant role in someone's life, at this very moment.

Mormor

My grandma is gone.  My beautiful, wonderful, strong and amazing grandmother has left this life.  At 94, she was the most incredible person I have ever met and I can only hope to be a fraction of what she was as a person.

She never judged, she never failed, she never lost her dignity over anything.  She was and will always be in my eyes, a role model.

She accepted everything that came her way with a strong back, a good heart and a smile. Even after so many losses in life, she found peace in her home and in her heart.

I look at my life and I wonder if I could even try to come close to what she was.  It's funny how when people leave us we realize what they meant more so than ever before.  We always think, even when they are aging, that they will always be around.

In a way, she always will be.  In my heart, in my memories and now also in the wonderful things that fit in my suitcase as I travelled back to my home. 

Her passing has changed me.  I want different things in life now.  I want to grow and continue to strive for what she accomplished.  She may have been a very lonely woman in her old days, but she never ever gave up on anything or anyone. No matter what had happened in the past.  The past was just that, something you thought up but didn't dwell upon.

She was proud.  Sometimes to her detriment but never too proud to cry when she was overwhelmed by emotions.  She knew so much and yet so little.  With her we, those left behind, have lost a generation of knowledge.  These are the things I will regret always.  To not have spent days baking with her, gardening with her, cooking with her...but at the same time, I had the most wonderful childhood and grew up right next door to her and got to experience most of these things as a child. My memories and perhaps also my genes, will guide me forward.

Individuality

Perhaps this post should be under Emma's blog, but it's really more me that this is about.

Today, my little girl went to school with the most amazing outfit she had picked herself, with her hair all in clips in no particular order, sunglasses, jewellery from the dressup box and all in all looking what we all would most likely consider deshelved.

To her, looking at herself in the mirror, she was the most beautiful being on earth.  To me, she was and is the incredibly beautiful and wonderful girl in the entire universe.

So what's my issue?  I don't really have one per se. I have horrible visions of my girl being teased for the incredibly individual person she is.  I want to harbour her and keep her safe.  I want no one to tell her that she looks silly, or stupid or that she can't look like that because it's not "normal".  I want her to be who she is, always.

When I was young, I went through so many hard things at school and I never ever want her to experience it for a second.  I believe her to be strong and that she can hopefully stand her ground should anything come her way.

I told her that if anyone makes any comments that she doesn't like, to tell them that "this is who I am, I like who I am and I love my hair". 

I can only pray that she keeps her head up high and not become a worrywart like her mother. 

It's taken me so very long in life to get over what happened to me as a child in school. There are days that I still struggle with it and need to remind myself that it doesn't matter what others think of me. I'm stronger than that.

So Emma, if you ever read this, know that you are an incredible girl that can do anything you want in this world.

I love you with everything that I am and more.

My shift and My Luck

My life has seen many changes in my almost 36 years.  I've noticed a slight shift over the past couple of months and one that I'm not too fond of and I'm going to nip it in the bud before it goes haywire.

Unlike most, I seem to consider my resolutions later in the new year than on the 1st of January.  Perhaps because to me, the new year doesn't really begin until Spring is closer around the corner.  February is such a dull month and for me, as most of you know, it's a dark period of mourning and grief that doesn't seem to ever dissipate despite the years that pass.

I'm not here to consider my grief, except for the slight shift that I've come to realise and with such realization, also a new-found commitment to change.
I, like most, hate change.  We say that change is good, and once we've changed, whether location or as a person, we're better for it.  At the time that the change is occuring however, we're all hating it.  Admit it!

Here I am, embarked (note that I'm not embarking) on a journey that at the moment seem endless and draining.  Once again our house (mine and Simon's) is up for grabs and the constant cleaning for potential buyers is exhausting.  Also not a topic for this post.  It is what it is and I'm closer at accepting the fate of our home and marriage than ever before. You may even say that I have completely accepted it and moved on.  This change has occurred, the only thing left is the material item that is the house.

The change and shift that I'm speaking of is more intangible.  It's the shift that I've become increasingly obsessed with the notion of the future.  What it is, what it will bring, and so on.  I'm constantly worrying about either financial issues, work, home, my daughter, myself and others.  I'm always considering my moves and how I decide today what to do will effect the outcome of tomorrow.  Albeit great to have some foresight, it's not at all accurate.  If I actually take stock and consider my past for a second and the choices I took and the paths I chose, neither one of them had the outcome that was considered at the onset of that decision.  So why is it that I'm so completely consumed by the future at this point? 

Part of me has disected this question and considered that perhaps I'm afraid of the fact that in four years, I'll be forty.  Even typing that out scares me.  But why do I feel that forty is such an end-of-the-road kind of age? Isn't forty suppose to be the new twenty?

The things that worry me the most with how my life is currently playing out (and then I'll consider the options rather than worst case scenarios) are the social pressures of todays society.  We are suppose to have a house, 2.5 children, white picket fence and the lot.  What I will have soon is no marriage, no house, 1 child and certainly no white picket fence (nor the lot!).

I hesitate to question why I feel that way, because I do know the answer.  I'm being bullied by advertisment, bullied by society to believe that this close to forty, my life should be a certain way. I should be financially secure, have a house, have child(ren) (preferrably in their pre-teens!) and I should be starting to slow down and look ahead to retirement.

With all that in my mind, how could I not be freaking out about my current situation?

Instead of freaking out, why don't I instead take stock of what I do have!? Because it's so darn difficult to see the forest for the trees. 
Here goes. For the first time ladies and gentlemen:

I have a wonderful little girl who steals my heart every single day and who makes me smile from ear to ear.
I have an amazing friend in my ex-husband (hate the term ex!) and a wonderful father to my daughter.
I have an supportive and loving relationship with a wonderful man.
I have girlfriends near and far that love me for me, not for what I could be.
I'm happy for the first time in my life with my job.  I'm paid well, and I have freedom and support

Why do I care if I don't have a house that is mine (with a mortgage up to my ears!), or a new fancy car (with payments and crazy insurance), or three-four children (that I couldn't afford even if I wanted to!).

Well, because I've shifted lately, from actually being happy with what I have, and instead looking for ways to make my current situation seem bad.  It's not bad.  It's wonderful in its own way and I'm one of the luckiest people in this world.

And why couldn't I have children at forty? I admire and amaze at the courage and devotion of those who do, and maybe I will be one of those strong and beautiful women one day (in less than four years!).

My Favourite Books of 2011

These are not books that were published in 2011 but books that I read and fell in love with during this past year.  I keep track of my books through Shelfari which is also listed through this blog.
These books are also in no particular order...I'm not rational or organized as such...

The Silence of Trees
by Valya Dudycz Lupescu

This is a story of Nadya and how she dealt with her ghosts from the past through her entire life.  Beautiful story about love, hope, despair and loss.  A strong woman dealing with her decisions that shaped her future.
I was drawn into her life and her story and got lost in the story of this brave yet also weak girl who grew in to an old woman with so many secrets.

The Host
by Stephenie Meyer

I'm not a fan of the Twilight movie series.  This meant that I ignored the global rush to read the book series.  Instead I waited years and finally picked up this book.  At first glance and as I started to read it, I thought I was in for an eye-roller and reluctantly kept reading chapter after chapter until the book had me in its grips and I could not put it down.  I missed busstops, snuck off to the bathroom, read at my desk under cover of a file folder. 
Earth has been taken over by an alien race, using human bodies as host for their own race,c alled Souls.  Melanie Stryder, a rebel fighter, has been taken over by a soul called Wanderer.  It's Wanderer's story we get to hear and how Melanie, even though faint in memory, grows in Wanderer's memory.

Little Bee
by Chris Clever

Another survival story (2011 was riddled with them).  Told from the viewpoint of Little Bee, a nigerian refugee in the UK and her reason for being there and what drives her forward but also from the viewpoint of another woman whose life was touched, ever so lightly at first, by Little Bee and how they came to be eachother's flames.

The Hunger Games
by Suzanne Collins

Survival and Rebels, Teen Style;)  Loved this trilogy. A must read for any young female (or male).

A Game of Thrones
by George R.R. Martin

Not the series, this particular book and maybe the second one as well...A great fantasy read.