Figured it Out He Did

As I was making dinner tonight, The Elf Boy suddenly said to me in a slightly strange sing song voice “and I know there is no Santa”… at which point I pretty much bolted to the bathroom to think. When I had composed myself, I asked him why he said such a thing, and we had a heart to heart over our breakfast for dinner, throughout which I let him in on the secret that parents basically lie to their children for at least the first 8 years of their life. As we came into this new reality together, it dawned on him that his Mother has stood in for many a mystical creature, which he informed me in similar words that he no longer believes in, including but not limited to The Tooth Fairy, The Easter Bunny and Mr and Mrs Claus. And then he had a giggle fit about flying reindeer with glowing faces. And I tried to explain to him the seriousness of the club he is now in. Of people who must do what they can to make sure that magic lives on in the hearts of the young, and the true believers. He has vowed not to spill the beans but wants to know if it is ok if he at least asks his friend’s little sisters if they actually believe in the tooth fairy. OH And where are all my teeth Mum?! 

He is a bit disappointed to hear that I do not own costumes for the many roles I have played, because he thinks it would be pretty hilarious to catch me hopping around the apartment tossing foil covered chocolate eggs on the floor, in a Bunny Suit.  He is also surprised at himself for not considering sooner how strange it is to believe that a bunny can get around to so many homes and poop out so much chocolate, all in one night. His words. He is still wrapping his head around these new concepts of reality, momentarily pondering if it is possible that it was me doing the work of these many seasonal super heroes, thinking that perhaps I am off gallivanting around the neighbourhood leaving presents for people in lieu of the likes of The Big Man and The Big Bunny. Did I in fact invent the Tooth Fairy?! And where do I get the money to buy all the teeth of all the kids in town?! (I have some reigning in to do…) And he thinks it is down right creepy to think that Santa can know what we are thinking about at all times. (Side Note, we have had conversations about other all seeing entities that people believe in, it is easier to explain about Santa though. But I love that we can talk about these things already!)

He is touched and relieved to know that I won’t be handing in my badges, that there will still be stockings to hang, and that the going rate for teeth is the same.   You parents should try this! Exposing our lies puts us into a whole new shelf of Good Books! WIN! 

What gets me is that this transition was just a moment of hilarity to him. I guess I assumed that he would be broken hearted over the broken promises of such realizations! But he is a great kid with a sweet funny little heart, and he just laughed at me for the whole thing. And then said Thank You. So apart from the need for a massive forehead bandage on occasion, I can say with full heart and great relief that I believe I am doing a good job! And I am blessed to have this child as my son!

At least there is still the spirit of the many seasons to explore and uphold! Happy Halloween Everybody! Stay Sacred and go find that Giant Pumpkin!

Staying Above the Weather, not Under It

Today was full of memory making. Moments to treasure. To highlight in our mind when needed. Moments that stand out amongst the mess and puddles. Moments that I think we really, really needed. To put the stars back into our eyes and probably our hearts as well…

Moments like getting off the bus to find street names unsigned, and destinations unsure of. Moments like when the minute you get off the bus, and open your umbrella, wind tears through it, turning it inside out and 3 ways round. Moments when you have to look your son in the eyes and laugh hysterically along with him, and half of the people in transit at that stop light. Moments when you have to just shrug and hurry on your way. Even in your awkward between sizes rubber boots, kiddo! Because having a meltdown in the already melting atmosphere just isn’t an option, is what I told myself very sternly for a second or two there. So very good natured of us, don’t you think?

We got to the dental screening appointment, to find that the on call dentist wasn’t actually on call today. But the pain isn’t too bad, and we have another appointment and hopefully know to only eat on side of his mouth for the next 2 weeks. Jolly Good Show.

Aside from a blasted and busted up umbrella, and a brief sore stomach for a few minutes after bravely proving to Mum that the royal We could eat the entire serving of market poutine himself… we made it through today nearly unscathed. I just thought I had better let you know that we did survive another day. Not sans injury or incident. Did I imply that? We made it through, but on top of the cracked tooth that will have to be pulled (Kiddo doesn’t mind this prospect if it means he gets a day off school, And that he can get a look at it once it is out…), and aside from the stick on stitches and massive bandaid that managed to stay dry under cap and hood, we go to bed with a rather reddened finger, which we (by we, of course I mean He) got stuck in the hole of a table when Mum was down buying some ginger ale because the juice at the place we went for lunch was frozen solid! Apparently a ‘coplady’ walked by while he was stuck in the table but he didn’t think he should ask her for help. It would have been ok, he could have proven that he wasn’t at risk of going anywhere! A child can be left semi-alone for 3 minutes and keep his mother in site and still manage to get himself stuck in a table by one finger!  (I knew it would be ok, he wouldn’t part with even one fry of that poutine without hollering, so it wasn’t like he was about to up and scamper off. Couldn’t anyway, could he?!)

So, pieces of umbrella are left strewn about town, and we have lots of fun stories to tell our friends at school tomorrow about the Adventurous Day Off that we had together. About how after Mum stripped the umbrella of its fabric, she tried to open it again, just to show what it would do, and neither expected to see the spikey bits fly off the darn thing and land a good 10 feet away under a tree! (Note to self, if ever actually in a zombie apocalyse or whatever it is kids are talking about these days, salvage all broken and abandoned umbrellas! Those babies can be lethal!)

Now, Time to sleep it off and heal, time to recharge for another day. Time to ponder what to do with the piece of salvaged umbrella fabric that I brought home, or rather wore home like a demented old woman! I’m thinking tablecloth for patio, or a couple of waterproof liner bags. Or maybe I will just leave it as is and wear it like a shawl next time it rains. Because it is the last umbrella I buy!

(ALSO, Do I win for longest running sentence yet? I must be in the running for longest run on thoughts!? You should hear my brain at 3 a.m.!)

Physical Spontaneity and Awkwardness Consequence Syndrome!

We are clumsy. I think it is genetic. We are of the clumsy people. We are of the lanky, fast moving, lacking in awareness of how big we really are, or the ability to foretell or recall consequence of said lack of awareness, clumsy people. It is foretold in the stories of our ancestors. I’m sure of it. But we survive, in our sensitive ways. Our frozen bags of peas, and well bandaided foreheads raised high.

Have you ever tried to affix a bandaid to the immediate region of the hair line of a an 8 year old boy who has never had a cut on his head before so is rather frightened but doing his best to stay still, and tried to get it to stick well enough to encourage a cut to heal? It takes a Lot of bandaid to cover a tiny cut when applied in this region shared by hair roots, let me tell you!

And we are of a breed prone to the dramatic. (no kidding, right?!)

Also, we manage to injure ourselves in ways that visibly would indicate great excitement had occured, but only make good story in the telling because of our flair for drama…!!!

For example, if One had just gone to brush his teeth like asked to, as per usual, instead of flinging himself prone onto the couch with great dramatic flair, One might not have a cut on his forehead from hitting the edge of said forehead on One’s tablet that One had hidden under a blanket on said couch, when previously asked to put it away for supper, previous to said incident of requested and required tooth brushing! Whew! If One had just gone to brush his teeth  One might not be in bed tonight with a forehead covered in bandaid and a Mother hovering, wondering if she should have in fact taken you in for stitches! Oh the drama of it all!

And, if one hadn’t been biting goodness knows what at school, One taking a special trip to emergency dental clinic tomorrow morning, as One mightn’t have come home with stories of little slivers of tooth coming out into One’s hand at school.

So, no no no, we don’t have good stories to go along with our injuries. We don’t crack our teeth playing hockey, we bite things we won’t own up to biting. And we don’t gash our heads doing brave and daring feats of bravado and daring, we fling ourselves in dramatic fits onto couches, which would other wise be soft and safe for landing, if we weren’t hiding our trouble making tablets upon such otherwise cozy landing zones. And remember the broken ankle from nearly a year ago? That wasn’t from kicking field goals or even jumping off extraordinarily high things, that was from tripping over a friend who was sitting on the ground. And don’t mistake me, One of us does all of the reckless and exciting things, and more, to the constant worry of One’s Mother. But these things don’t result in injury. Perhaps because jumping off of nearly unreachable places on a play ground the second your Mother turns to say hello to a neighbour is premeditated. Perhaps what we suffer from is  Physical Spontaneity and Awkwardness Consequence Syndrome!

Other’s might, upon hearing these stories, think that we aren’t well looked after. Thing is, we are, at time, probably too looked after. And so when we have moments of apparent freedom, we do astounding silly things, instead of highly exciting and adventurous things. Because we are genetically silly and clumsy.

Please don’t think I have made it my mission to expose our penchant for foolishness to the #2 perpetrator of said consequences. While we may laugh, I am far too sensitive myself to give him a hard time about his apparent bad luck. Or innate clumsiness. Although I do hope at some point before we are fully grown, a lesson or two might be learned. I do own up. I have begun telling him stories about my various scars, injuries and unforgettable moments. Like the little scars on my hand that came from slipping down a rock face when I was trying to get into a canoe and not only falling into the water, but less than gracefully somehow sliding completely under the canoe I was supposed to be getting InTo, and coming out the other side, with scrapes all down one side of my hand gained from grappling with any surface I could scrape myself on. I am saving up the one’s I can’t admit to without having to explain the whole “I was in my 20s and whiskey was my frienemy” stories for the decades to come.

What lessons are to be learned from our Physical Spontaneity and Awkwardness Consequence Syndrome? Slow down, watch what one is biting and where one is flinging oneself, and always, Always have a various assortment of bandaids and frozen peas on site. And know the value of making a very very big deal out of everything, so that when the really big things happen, they will just seem like the usual child’s play, AMIRIGHT?!

This anxiety ridden mother is now going to check on her sleeping prince of the wounded again, and then lay on the nearest piece of floor and practice some calm breathing exercises. Don’t worry, I will do it slowly and with a good deal of mindful awareness. And I will make sure there aren’t any hazards in the way first.

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Growth Chart

Pretty Pretty Fall

Autumn Colours;

For those of you afraid we are buried in that horrible stuff known as snew (I can’t bring myself to say it this morning for fear of jinxing…) We Aren’t… yet….. we are actually having a proper fall right now. And it is pretty.

So I share with you the things that keep me from watching where I am going. And on occasion give the neighbourhood a fun view when I am crouched down peering at the ground taking pictures…

Cuted out Creepies

I told the boy that something had crashed into our balcony, and he was disappointed that there wasn’t any rubble…

Where we hang out hats;

We don’t go high budget for halloween. But that inspires us to be creative, together. From strewn wool to recycled paper streamers, we are earth friendly if anything else!

… but Where oh Where is the Spider who could create such a thing, I wonder?!

2 weeks left before Halloween. 2 weeks to suss out costumes, and make merry. Next up Pumpkin Carving. In the mean time, watch out for witches who can’t steer, and have a Happy Halloween!

Get it Out, Outdoors

Life Tip…Don’t go bird watching with 8 year olds!

I know, this is not very all nature-all parenting friendly of me. But it is the truth. Cause an 8 year old boy is as restless as a puppy on a fresh day, and also more interested in smashing dead weeds with sticks, than he is in peering up at the treetops trying to spot some flitting splash of colour. And then you will just feel like smashing dead weeds with other dead weeds too. Cause dead weed smashing is noisy business! Not conducive to capturing birds on film. Or relaxing. Because only the squirrels like the noises you make in the woods when you are busy going about the business of smash and crash! And why wouldn’t you, being an energetic, occasionally free range, 8 year old boy. I remember when I was about 10, my favourite thing to do in the woods was push down dead trees! And what is the point of creating frustration in 2 people, when one is happy enough destroying dead golden rod? So I understand. And I don’t want to walk in the woods alone. So, happy smash and crash it is. (Time to find some fellow bird watchers to walk with perhaps?!)

Besides, there are other things to capture, things that don’t move. And other ways to make memories together. Like tossing chestnut casings into the woods. Or having fun with puddles. There is colour and life all around, and some of it won’t flit away from you and your free spirited, if smashy, child.

And it is ok. He wants to hear the woodpecker, but he isn’t bothered if he doesn’t see it. So let it go. Teach him how to load milk pods onto sticks for some really good flinging action! Look around, not just up. Life is happening all around, and some of it is peaceful enough for the both of you. There is stillness all around you, even if you aren’t feeling that way. It is there. Going on all calm and beautiful,  beside and in spite of you.

Truth. It is important to get outdoors; fresh air, exercise, energy burning, companionship, memory making, all that. But it is more important to do it in ways that work for all. Let go of expectation and you will have more fun – this is what I relearned yesterday.

Seasons Change

Signs of Fall? Or of something falling, anyway. Good thing we aired out the woolies. Nature hike takes on a whole new meaning for us today.

Wool Over My … Hair

Fall is here. Means no more pool or lake to jump in.  And just when I come to terms with the fact that I might have to wash my hair on a regular basis again, fall is here. Means woolie hat season. Means covering with touques. It is too cold to wash my hair on days I have to leave the house anyway.

Life Tip; don’t pre-emptively shampoo shop. you won’t need it. Do, however, hang out your woolie stuffs. Air those babies out, because they will be needed.

Up next, how to properly spell the word touque. toque? how do You spell that word for woolie hat?

Cultivating a Home

I have been reluctant to admit that I miss the place we left behind. But when I catch myself saying “back home”, I realize that it still feels like that. For better or worse, it is still home in my mind. And will always have a piece of my heart, like the other places I have been and gone from. And this might not be a bad thing. After starting a new life in silence, after all the things we have been through in the past, and in this past year, I haven’t really allowed myself to think happy thoughts about the place we left behind. But when I think of the place, and not the circumstances, I really do miss it, the area that was my home for a decade. For this kitchen witch wishes she could go walk down that familiar hill, visit that pumpkin farm, sit across from that friendly face at that table. I miss you. I miss there. There, I’ve said it. But There is very far away, and not an option for visiting in any way more than thought and sentiment.

Maybe because we have been so busy making House, I have yet to feel like this city is really the Home of my Heart. Not that I am thinking of going any place else. I know this is where we are now, and there are many wonderful things about living in this new city. Many necessary things. And much potential. Maybe it is the nostalgia of the season, maybe it is not seeing some loved faces for over a year now. Maybe it is that I need to go out and soak in the colour of the season. But we are home sick again, and not going to far this week. So as usual, I will absorb myself in the occupations of care giving and hand crafting.

Is sitting on the balcony with a mug of tea and my camera enough for now? Has to be, doesn’t it? Just need some leaves to adore. And pumpkins galore. Just because we can’t visit our friendly squash farm, doesn’t mean we are in a squash free zone!