I want to write, but the words elude me.
I want to type, but my fingers lie unmotivated.
I want to say something. Something big. But nothing seems big enough. Also, nothing seems small enough to be left unsaid.
I want to pour out my heart, but is this really the place?
There is so much to say, but the silence seems right.
The End…?
I feel like I’m in the twilight zone right now.
A little while ago, I dropped my parents off at the airport. On Sunday morning, as we got ready for church, there was a knock at the door. Josh opened it to find his grandparents, great aunt and great uncle on the doorstep! He stood there in shock, not even managing to open the door on his own.
We all had breakfast together, and from that moment until about 1:00 this afternoon, we have been in each other’s presence. My parents don’t get out here too often, and they came with the intent to spoil us rotten for four days straight – all the vacation time that they had left to give us. You bet it was wonderful! We went out to dinner (twice!), saw a movie, wandered around a mall and bowled a few games. Grandpa took the boys to Scouts, Grandma got to see Claire dance and check out her preschool classroom. There was cardmaking and gameplay – video and board. I had help with household chores and a grocery-shopping companion. It was wonderful.
Even though it was such a short time, it felt like a long time, but still not long enough. Right now I am sitting at the computer, trying to work, but just feeling that weird feeling of wondering if this really happened. That weird feeling of something big being over with and not knowing what to do next. And starting that strange habit I have of thinking thinks like, “Last week at this time I was doing _________ with my parents,” or “Last time we went to dance, Grandma came to watch.” And when I think things like that, I get sad. Sad that they are gone; sad that time flies so fast.
You’d think that us being 1300 km apart would get easier over time. Maybe the BEING does get easier. But ending visits gets harder and harder. Especially when the kids are begging to not be separated from their grandparents, exclaiming, “Take me with you!” and only half-joking; when there need to be three hugs per child to accompany each utterance of goodbye; and when a seven year old tells his grandfather that he misses him already when said grandfather has just arrived to start the visit. It’s like dreading the end of a book when the story has just begun.
The eight of us were blessed with an amazing four days together, and I’m so glad that we had them. Now it is time to get back to reality, to shake out of the twilight zone, and get to work on what is next to come. And there is so much to come.
Tonight was one of those nights in our home where a bath or shower before bed was imperative for our children. The youngest two decided to hop in together and play for a long time. The oldest one decided on a quick shower. That left an eight-year-old to take his turn; we recommended a shower as to not waste water by filling the tub again, but he disagreed and in the end, we caved and let him run a bath for himself.
Said child called me from the bathroom to pass him the towel so he wouldn’t get the floor wet by stepping off the mat. I went into the bathroom to help him and there he was, standing, covered head to toe in bubbles. I told him that he had to get back in the tub to rinse off and quickly realized that that was not going to happen. Claire’s new bottle of bubble bath that she got for Christmas was sitting on the counter, empty. I am not talking a sample size of bubble bath either. And I was not pleased.
I made him shower, which he did not disagree to at this point. And as he dried off and got his pajamas on, Jon and I asked him why he did it. And he didn’t seem to know what the big deal was.
This is the tough part. We told him that tomorrow we will take him to the store and he will buy Claire a new bubble bath. But my compassionate mother’s heart knows that he really didn’t know what he was doing. I have this theory that males – boys, men – often they don’t make connections that women do. They don’t think through things before they do them. And I really think that this applies here. He didn’t know that he was doing anything wrong.
Also, this second son of mine…he is the sweetest one; the most thoughtful and the most gentle. He never acts maliciously without being provoked. And even then, it takes A LOT for him to hit back, to fight back, to hurt back. He is not the type to think that dumping a litre of bubble bath in the tub would be a nice way to act out his anger.
So, while it definitely is right that Claire’s gift be replaced, it is tough to pin it all on my boy. Jon could have put it away after he used it, or I could have put it away after passing by it over and over while I got the other kids out of the tub. Would that make it just as much our fault that this happened as his?
Tomorrow we will go to the store. And our son will bring his money. But at the checkout, I think I’ll pay half.
I know it is what he would do in my situation.
What would you do?
Well, 2011 is taking its final breaths and a new year will soon be upon us. This realization has me oscillating between panic and sorrow. Panic that I am missing something – that a whole year has come and gone and I did not get to everything that I intended to; and sorrow that I feel this way instead of focusing on joy.
How can another year be starting already? It seems that they are flying past me faster and faster and my attempts to reach out and grab things as they whiz by are becoming less and less successful. What am I even trying to grab at? I don’t know. But I am missing it.
I want to feel excitement in the new year. Excitement for my children, excitement for my husband; excitement for our future. We have so much to look forward to!
Happy new year, dear readers! What are you hoping for in 2012??
Today I am grumbly. The morning was a fabulous one – a wonderful sleep-in, and a VERY long overdue visit with a long-time friend. I packed the kids into the van and took them away from the house to leave Jon to complete an assignment that is due soon, that he had forgotten about until yesterday.
Unfortunately, while I was away viruses snuck in and attacked my hubby, leaving him hot and cold and weak and cloudy and ill. I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone on one of the 8 days in 9 months that we get his undivided attention! 
The assignment is not completed, but my trooper hubby did fight through his illness to get the kitchen clean so that I wouldn’t be disappointed when I got home. I made him go to bed in an attempt to confine the germs to the bedroom. His symptoms are awfully familiar to me – I had the same a few weeks ago and it left me weak and with no appetite for almost two whole weeks. Dumb germs always attack in our family time.
Anyway, with hubby tucked into bed, I put a movie on for the kids, popped them some popcorn, and settled into a cozy corner of the couch to finish the e-book I’ve been trying to find time to read for the past 15 days.
Then Claire spilled her yogurt. I cleaned it up, retrieved my lemonade that I had placed on the counter, and dropped my phone (ie e-book) right into the glass.
SIGH.
I am so thankful that it is almost tomorrow.
There is a song that I first heard when I was much much younger. It was sung by Amy Grant and the lyrics described her “grown-up” Christmas list, one that included world peace and for everyone to have a friend.
I have always been a feeler and this song hit me right in my 13 (?) year old heart. And for many years it brought me much reflection and many thoughts, and even some tears.
But this year, I’m looking at the phrase “grown-up Christmas list” in a different light. Sure peace and love and joy is what so many want. It’s what I want too. But…well…I feel much more grown up this year, as people ask me what is on my Christmas list.
Every time I’ve been asked, I have paused for way too long…my mind racing with thoughts, trying to decide…do I tell the truth? Do I say what I’m thinking? Do I joke about it? Do I just say that I don’t have a list? That last one is what I’ve gone with the most. Especially after I was (jokingly, I think) called high maintenance when I candidly shared my list.
It isn’t long, but it’s big. It’s expensive. It’s out of reach. It’s a dream, really. I just don’t want anything else, so I have nothing to say. I have all I need. I’m blessed in so many ways – my world feels full and complete.
My grown up Christmas list contains a few things. Linoleum. A seamless one piece tub/shower combo. A new countertop and mirror and cabinet. Yup, I want a new bathroom. One that doesn’t have me monitoring mold growth or wondering if the water damage is from the inside of the wall or the outside. And I feel like I’m really pushing my luck here, but a new washing machine would go onto the bottom of my list. One that doesn’t dance across the floor as it spins each load. Normally I’d just push it back without thinking twice, but it’s gotten harder since I’ve become a lightweight. Losing weight is not all it’s cracked up to be.
I can’t think of a list more grown up than home improvement. LOL
All this said, however, I know in my head and in my heart that I am blessed to have a house with a bathroom in it at all. And to not have to lug clothing for a family of 6 to a laundromat to wash and dry it? That is golden. How would I fit that into my schedule even??
As my children toss and turn in their new pajamas trying to calm themselves enough to sleep, I am sitting here thinking of a new list. It is long, and it is big. It contains all of the things that I am thankful for tonight. All of the things that I already have. All of the gifts that I’ve been given, the gifts that I’ve been offered and that I’ve accepted. It lists the blessings that pour down on my head every second of every day.
Jon, Daniel, Josh, Andrew, Claire. Jesus. My house, my van, my parents, siblings, in-laws, step-family. My dishwasher, my microwave. Jon’s jobs, my jobs, our employers and clients. The activities that my kids are enrolled in, and the volunteers and staff that keep them running. Charities that we give to, and charities that give to us. Our church, and people who have known us for 20 years or 20 days. You.
The real grown-up Christmas list I want to share this year is this one. The things I’m thankful for. I just can’t ask for anything more.
Merry Christmas, my friends. May the God of HOPE fill you with all JOY this Christmas day, and every day that follows. May the year ahead be an opportunity for you to choose to just keep moving forward, every day, with your head held high, in the face of all adversity. May small joys be felt deeply by you, and may you find happiness in the tiniest most simple things, and may that joy carry you easily through disappointment and sorrow. May you revel in the wonderfulness of each and every day. May you feel that you have a purpose, even if you don’t quite know what it is yet. You are loved.
~Amber
Can you believe it is already December? I mean, of course it’s December. It was November not too long ago, and October before that. But it also feels like it was JUST December. The December of last year.
The month has been a whirlwind for us so far here. Illness took me down for over a week! This happens so rarely I was totally caught off guard and kind of in shock. And maybe some denial. I went out way too soon – and spoke in front of the church, no less – when I should have been laying low for awhile. I don’t know why I was so surprised though; I have been saying all along this is our year for some strong bugs. I guess I just wasn’t prepared to be the first hit!
The week following I played some catch up. And now it is almost the week following THAT week, and I need to play catch up for this week that just passed. Are you sensing a pattern here? It is the December pattern that inevitably will stretch into January. February first, I will be bored. Maybe. 
How about you all? What is your December like? Is it a rush of shopping, baking, parties, dinners, cleaning, organizing, wrapping and running?
Or is it calm, serene and smooooooth like butter? If it is, share your secrets!! I had my Christmas cards made by the end of September and my Christmas gifts almost all purchased and hidden away before November hit. And still we are feelin’ the rush. December…there is nothing like it. 
Driving home from dance class one day…
Claire: Mommy, are we from Canada?
Mommy: Yes.
Claire: So that means Carter is from our side of the world?
Mommy
Claire: I’m SO smart.
Mommy: Yes, you are.
*****
Dumping ingredients in a bowl to make cookies…
Claire: Can I put in some flour?
Mommy: Yes.
I counted the cups as we added them.
Mommy: …four…
Claire: Just one more?
Mommy: Nope, we need to put in 10. Five…six…seven…
Claire: Three to go!
Mommy: How do you know that?!?!?
Claire: I’m just smart.
When I look back on my life from where I stand now, I can clearly see that every moment has led up to this one. I can see that every second has been in preparation of this one second. And this one. And this one.
As I spent time reflecting on this phenomenon this week, I felt tiny streams of fear running through my body. Whispers of what ifs. Are the struggles I face now preparing me for the struggles that will come? Are there harder times ahead that the difficulty of now will pale in comparison to?
My body whispers…”I don’t want to. I don’t want things to get harder.” But what is the alternative to facing whatever comes?
I was thinking about this in church this week (Sorry Pastor Rick, I was trying to listen too!), and just reflecting on how things used to be so simple, but they get more complex every year. And I realized that we are doing it to ourselves.
As my mind followed its own little path, a Bible verse popped up on the screen in front of me.
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9
How is that for God speaking directly to a person? I know it’s true. I know that the things I do now will pay off in the future. I have this amazing HOPE that just gets me through it all. Some days I cannot believe MYSELF at how patient and loving and understanding I feel about Jon being so busy right now. I might not have felt this way a year ago or two years ago or 13 years ago as we prepared for our wedding. I used to pity the women whose husbands worked late, laboured through stat holidays, rarely saw the family. I used to think that kind of life would not work for Jon and I. But guess what…we are doing it. And we are making it work. And I am not bitter, I am proud of my fantastic husband who works two jobs, goes to school, serves on more than one committee and still finds time and energy to do the dishes every now and then, or make dinner, or pick up a few groceries or be at the kids’ beck and call for a few hours so I can sit alone in my bedroom and fold laundry uninterrupted.
I know that there is a wonderful harvest coming. In fact, I’m already being blessed, daily, as I journey through the process. I want to be a blessing to others. I want to encourage my husband and build up my friends. I want to give my children confidence and joy.
The sermon on Sunday was followed by a song that is near and dear to my heart. Here are some of the lyrics…they are one of my most frequent prayers.
May our single purpose be
To imitate Your life
Through our simple words and deeds
Let love be multiplied
Multiply Your love through me
To someone in need
Help me Lord to freely give
This grace that I’ve received
Let my single purpose be
To imitate Your life
Through my simple words and deeds
Let love be multiplied
Many hugs to all who are feeling weary or going through difficult times. If you want to chat, I’m here! Thank you for reading – you are an encouragement to me!
Today was a great day.
Lately my children have not been on their best behaviour. Not even on good behaviour. I have to admit, it has been a struggle and I’ve spent many many hours racking my brain, surfing the net, scouring library shelves looking for THE answer to the behaviour riddle.
I’ve almost given up on correcting anything that has to do with them because it just isn’t worth the fight. It doesn’t work anyway, and it just makes me feel sicker than I already feel.
But today…today was a breath of fresh air. The kids were good at church.
Let me tell you, I almost CRIED when I found out that there would be no Sunday school for grades 1 and up. I panicked inside and I almost left. Four kids and I in a pew? Not really something I’d plan. And it started out badly. Daniel and Andrew could not keep their hands off each other. Seriously, with me holding Claire on my hip and standing between them, they were reaching around me and trying their best to start a fistfight. I threatened to take away their hockey game outing planned for the afternoon. And you know what? It worked. Sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes I think they have no currency. But I tried one more time, and it worked. They didn’t fight anymore. They stood for the singing. They stopped colouring for the prayers. Claire and Andrew each went into their classes half way through the service without hesitation; without crying. To get Claire and Andrew to their classes, I had to leave Daniel and Josh alone in the pew and go to the basement of the church. Later, when the service ended, the only other adult in the same pew as us came over to tell me how nice Daniel and Josh were being to each other. That they were complimenting each other on their colouring. I was so blessed by her words. It was like a glimpse from the past. I used to always get compliments on my boys’ behaviour…when there were only two of them. The last five years or so, the frequency has dwindled considerably in direct correlation to the increasing level of frazzled mom-ishness I’ve felt. Go figure, right?
After church, we drove across the city to a lunch reception put on by my awesome realtor, Debbie Scruggs, and following that, to a Calgary Canucks hockey game. I do not have one single complaint about my kids behaviour over the course of the afternoon. They were amazing. A few times they were running around a little more than I’d like, but when I asked them to stop, they did. And it rarely took more than a glance and a point to get them to obey. This is how they used to respond. This is how they used to respect me. Could the respect dry-spell be ending?
Even these small glimpses of good behaviour and respect mean so much to me. Of course I love my kids, but when they love me back in this way, I love them even more. I’m proud and not embarrassed; joyful and not frazzled.
We had such a great day together, and after the game, we stopped for some groceries, then picked up Jon from work and came home and had dinner and watched a movie as a family. I loved today. It was sweet and wonderful.
I hope this is the start of something new.