Maybe we won't go back

I've been reflecting lately, on this crazy year we are having. 2020 will most certainly never be forgotten, for a million different reasons. At times I've fought with it, hated it, cried about it and many times I have gone to bed thinking there was no way I could make it through another day. 

But then I thought, perhaps this is what we are supposed to learn. 

That grey is a medium place. 

It's not good, but it's not necessarily bad. 

It's non-striving. 

It's being. 

It's stepping outside of the stories we create in our own monkey minds. 

During this time of awakening, perhaps we are being called to listen. 

Actively listen to our bodies, our partners, our neighbours and children. 

Perhaps this time can teach us to find gratitude in each moment as it unfolds. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Maybe experiencing non-striving is the gift, here. 

Finding joy in simply being. 

Remembering what it's like to not have plans, throw big parties or take marathon shopping trips. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Perhaps this is the new normal. 

Less scheduled driving, more time to explore our own minds and beliefs. 

More time to look inward and support others in a new consciousness. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Maybe this time is teaching us that our before was truly unsustainable. 

It was too fast, too wasteful, too superficial. 

Too far from mother earth and the beautiful gift of simply being. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Perhaps the grey is teaching us to trust Him more. 

To pray on our struggles and consider this parable's lesson. 

Believe that God's plan is exactly ours, as well. 

In a world that was so egotistical, so full of wants confused as needs, perhaps we shouldn't go back.

Perhaps the little humans we are raising will be better for this time, better for the grey, better for being.

So, don't be so quick to want to go back.

Perhaps there's no such thing, and the only sure thing is the experience we are having right now. 

As we commit to being. 

Non-striving. 

Trusting.

Living.

 

The perfect summer of unbusy

This summer I've realized how often I was sitting on the sidelines of life.

Waiting for the perfect moment.

The perfect body.

The perfect amount of energy.

The perfect time.

I think sometimes I fell into a cycle of unworthiness in my own head.

Crazy how powerful our minds are.

I wasn't skinny enough.

Strong enough.

Fun enough.

Its not what moms say.

Or do.

Or what my friends say, or do.

Others are better at it than me.

Look better than me.

Should be doing those things, not me.

And this summer the cycle is slowly breaking wide open.

The amount of downtime our family has had so far is unprecedented.

We swim daily, sometimes two or three times in a day.

We have lazy mornings.

Time to read.

Less to do.

More time to just be, together.

It's helped me realize that perfect is now.

Right now.

That embracing life for exactly what it is now, is brilliant.

And gratitude overwhelms for all the right reasons.

Sometimes we are busy. 

But right now, not so much.

And the gift of unbusy is just as special, perhaps even more so, than the gift of busy.

I'm realizing that unbusy is not lazy.

Its absolutely not.

It's a gift.

The flow of life.

The calm before life's next storm.

It's perfect.

And I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and miss another opportunity to embrace it.

I'm going to be the only mom in the pool.

The mom who models a love of reading.

The mom who doesn't feel guilty when dinner is grilled cheese and apples.

The woman who throws down a brilliant cannonball because she has nearly 30 years of practice in the same pool.

The woman who thinks less about her every move, and lives more fully.

The women who is done worrying about how she looks in a dang bathing suit.

Seriously done worrying about it.

A woman who loves harder by doing.

Who embraces unbusy.

Who rides this summer wave with gratitude.

Because it won't be long until the heat is gone.

The mom taxi is back in action.

Work becomes overwhelming.

And a new wave, called busy, calls me to change my stance and find new reasons to be happy.

All over again <3

 

#gratitude #summertime #lifelessons #unbusy



Photo courtesy @becomingunbusy: https://www.facebook.com/BecomingUnbusy/



 

Bloom

I think it's time for me to share this with you;

You weren't meant for that journey.
As much as it hurts.
As much as you were left behind.
As much as you stand to the side, watching the game wondering why you weren't chosen to play.

You have been planted elsewhere.

Please know this;
Your trajectory is different.
Your destination, my goodness my dear, it's so far and beyond anything you ever dreamed possible.

So while right now,
today,
you feel forgotten about.

Bruised.
Unwanted.

The world has got your back.
I've got your back.
And we must trust, hand in hand, that life has bigger, better plans for you.

You will rise.

Shine.
Bloom.

 Exactly where you were planted.

Cruise Control

I'm often asked why I 'only' work part time. 

I've been told its not right, not best for my family for me to 'waste' my education and experience. 

I've been told I should strive for more money.

A bigger house. More frequent vacations.

Nicer brand name clothing and renovations to our aging home.

I've been told I'm not enough.

Inferred lazy.

Less than.

I've been told my kids need to 'suck it up' and go to day care like 'most kids do'. I've been told they will never survive the 'real world' when they get older if I continue to 'coddle them' by being home more than the average mom.

I've been told many not so nice things. Been judged. 

Questioned myself repeatedly for my choices as a mother.

Spent many days wondering if I'm doing it all wrong.

Then, you know what?

Days like today happen.

Epic full driveway hopscotch made by three awesome kids.

And this is what matters.

This is the privilege I am witness to.

Time at home afterschool to unwind.

Unstructured play.

Sibling friendships.

You see, our family has lived with plenty of fear the last three years.

Cancer. 

Anaphylaxis.

Home invasion.

My kids worry about dying.

Being without one another.

Eating food that makes them sick.

Going to the hospital.

Coming home to another broken front door and missing piggy banks.

Robbers.

My kids have been through enough to know what makes them feel safe, and what doesn't.

Home, together, is their happy place.

Second only to, together, on an adventure.

So for now I will continue to trade money for time. 

Career advancement for memories.

Fast track for cruise control.

And someday when they've all left the nest perhaps I'll climb that ladder, pursue that masters or even purchase that indulgence I've daydreamed of owning.

Until then, I do not apologize.

I've taken the path less travelled for good reason.

We are anchored at home.

Appreciate life more than most.

Feel Safe.

Today I am grateful for the privilege of cruise control.

Three healthy kids.

One amazing husband.

An afterschool spent at home.

We all make choices.

This is mine. Ours.

Social media, reinvented

Giving up social media for lent was quite an interesting journey.

In the first week, I was mostly lost. There actually came a day when I said to myself, I’m bored. Then I was like, WHHHAATTTT? That’s when my first learning hit me,

I do not need to fill up every space. Every singular moment.

I really don’t. Just because I am cooking dinner and have to wait another four minutes for water to boil, does not mean I need to pick up my phone. Waking up in the morning is much better when I don’t check my phone, but pray, meditate, stretch, pet my dogs or hug the kids for an extended few minutes. I have more time in my day then I think I do, if I just keep off my phone. I can even find some mundane moments in my busy life, which truly surprised me.

By the tenth day, I noticed the most difficult moments to be social media-free were the ones when I felt I ‘needed an escape.’ You know, the moments you want to hear about everyone else’s life and avoid your own? This led me to my next learning,

Be curious with myself when I grab my phone.

Society has spent an awful lot of time demonizing social media, but it doesn’t have to ruin relationships and cause drama among friends. It can be very simple, even empowering, if I become the watchdog of my own use. I have learned that poor social media use for me is using it when I am trying to 'get away' from something or somewhere. When I substitute social media for time in silence, real social connection or use it to distract myself from a ruminating thought, what I really need to do it own it and put my phone down.

As I suspected, life carried on without social media. Two things that didn’t change, though I hypothesized they would? I was no less worried or anxious without social media in my life, nor did avoiding social media reduce the amount of negative thoughts that went through my mind on a given day. That surprised me. My brain is my own worst enemy, not social media.

As I moved into the final weeks, I realized I needed a plan before logging back in. I never intended to live without social media, but I definitely didn’t want to slide back into my old habits. This led to my next reflection,

Rules of engagement are essential for healthy social media use.

I decided that social media for me is about ethical news, posts that guide me towards a mindful life and updates from honest, authentic people who see me as an imperfect human still worthy of love. I no longer accept lying, misrepresentation, omission of truth, silence in place of honesty, ‘make believe’ happiness, those lacking self awareness, mean-spirited commentary, victim mentality and misinformed posts about politics and news. Life is just too short. Snooze, unfollow and delete will be my primary adjustment tools as I return to social life.

The bottom line?

I learned that I cannot escape reality by removing myself from social. I still saw and heard, connected to and knew most of the goings-on in my circle of friends, acquaintances and family. There was hurt, pain, grief and deep sadness that unfolded right before my eyes. I didn’t need social media to experience that. There were also deeply personal text messages, check-ins from family and grocery store hugs which lifted my spirit in ways social media never could.

Social media for me had become more of a time waster, a bad habit or addiction of sorts. While I adore seeing photos and stories of the good news, wish to honour others’ difficult times so I can keep them in my prayers and appreciate the support I've found in online support groups, I learned there’s a difference between engaging actively in my newsfeeds, and passively wasting precious time.

It’s ok to hop on and catch up, send love or best wishes. But for me, it’s not ok to be head down multiple times a day, buried in unimportant details of the many posts that crossed my eyes each day. Just because I may choose to post less often, I can still cruise, creep or otherwise passively view my social channels many more times each day. This is the habit that stops now, this is social media, reinvented.
 

I will be looking up more.
Taking in real life, all around me.

My goodness there is so much glory.

So much pain.
So much beauty in each and every day.

<3

They need so much less than we think

Tonight we had an extra long dinner as a family.
It wasn't a fancy meal, or a well-planned all-natural organic creation.

It was just food, on plates.
Knapins and water cups.

Some ketchup for good measure.

But tonight our meal lasted for what felt like forever, because we sat down and planned our bucket list for the rest of this year, using a simple prompt sheet I had printed four months earlier (with good intentions).

It took us until today, but we did it.
And it was worth every minute of conversation.

We laughed as we brainstormed.
Teased each other.
Cracked jokes.

We opened our minds and hearts to new possibilities.
Shared with each other the things we'd love to see and do.

It filled my soul.

Three hours later all I keep thinking about is this:

We trade time for money,
spend it on piles of accumulation and call it wealth.

We work so damn hard,
exchange it for so little quality family time and call it a life.

We dedicate ourselves to higher education,
then fail to revel in the words of a four year old because we are rushing and distracted.

Our kids need us now.
Today.

They need our presence.
Not presents.
They need to sit around a table of people who love them.

They need to SEE US.
Be with us.
Be held by us.

No amount of wealth, no advanced education, not even a burgeoning career can provide for our children what they need right now, as little humans.

They need us.

Their mamas.
Their daddies.
Their aunties and uncles and grandparents and special relatives.

They need time.
A relaxed, positive space to speak openly and honestly about their hopes and dreams.

They need love.
Unwaivering, always-present words which clearly articulate the depth of our affection for them.

They need peace.
Space in their hearts and minds which is uncluttered by accumulation, overscheduling and unrealistic lifestyles driven by must-have brands and toys.

They need so much less then we think they do.

Less.
Is.
More.

Tonight, over an extra long family
 dinner, I was reminded of this.

Don't believe me?

Give your kids more time, more cuddles and more opportunities to speak freely.
You'll see what I see, I promise.

You are alive today

A cold morning walk with 90s tunes blaring in my ears.

An old retriever dog, white face and golden body, walking down a busy street with a giant branch in his mouth.

A postal worker picking up an empty garbage bin rolling around on the street.

Amazing lunch conversation with a dear friend and long-time mentor.

 

What do these all have in common?

 

Well...

 

they brightened my day,

made me smile,

reminded me of all the good around me.

 

They were free,

unplanned,

spontaneously noticed on an average day.

 

The question is, would I have noticed if I wasn't bringing mindful awareness to my day?

Probably not.

 

How much in our day to day life do we miss by thinking so far in advance?

How much passes us by, when we are busy analyzing the past?

 

The past leaves us depressed.

The future gives us anxiety.

Why do we continue to live like this?

 

Eckhart Tolle says, "Realize deeply, that the present moment is all you ever have."

 

Think about that.

Really reflect.

 

Why spend the next day, hour, minute even worrying about something that hasn't happened?

Why lose a week, a month, a lifetime feeling angry or holding a grudge about something which cannot be undone?

 

Our life is not meant to be perfect.

But we can appreciate it regardless.

 

There's no moment but now.

And it's up to us to live it.

Breathe it.

Love it.

 

Find the good, in today. In your now.

Whatever or wherever, it just is.

 

You are alive today.

And that is a gift.

 

xo

 

 

The teachings of my soul

Last week I got lost in the busyness of life.

(If I'm being honest, I've been lost most of the summer)

Many of my worst habits... to do lists, late night notes to myself, an overly full calendar.... have come back in full force as I attempt to control my world.

But back to last week.

Last week was a particularly crazy week, one where I literally spent hours preparing for a weekend event that I look forward to every year. I was making phone calls and sending texts, I was confirming rules and considering all angles to ensure the best possible chance for success. 

Hours.

I'm not even kidding.

Then, the weekend arrives. I was overpacked, my brain was still swimming with all the busy of the week but my heart was happy as I was about to spend my weekend with some of my favourite people.

Then, get this.

Despite my organization, time spent and energy expelled all week, it blew up in my face.

Literally, another human being blew up in my face.

Crap.

Really?

If you know me personally, you know how much I hate conflict.

It makes my skin crawl. 

Call me an idealist, but I like to think that words are powerful enough to deflate most conflicts, and that if we take time to check our perspectives we can almost always see another side of the story.

But this weekend, despite my very best efforts to promote smooth sailing, I hit a massive wave.

I can't even tell you how much it hurt my heart. 

Hurt.

My.

Heart.

But it happened, and I left feeling unheard, disrespected and totally overwhelmed.

In fact I spent most of my day feeling sick to my stomach.

And it didn't matter how much I prepared, because it didn't help me.

Huh.

Sometimes life just throws us a curveball. 

Acts in a way which is contrary to every plan, scenario and best practice.

Sometimes we just aren't prepared.

Sometimes no one listens.

Sometimes no one wants to listen.

Sometimes we just can't win.

Sometimes words aren't enough.

And so despite living with an awareness of self, despite my every effort to be kind, speak calmly under distress and build mutual respect, sometimes life just doesn't work that way.

All I can do now, is listen to the teachings of my soul.

It continues to say, love, even when others don't love you.

Breathe deeply and speak calmly when you want to explode.

Love friends like family, because they really are the family you choose.

Fail and keep failing, but never ever stop living with optimism.

Thank those who support you, but appreciate those who do not, for they help you grow.

Remember that faith can heal a hurting heart.

And hugs really do make a tough day better.

And finally, never, ever let another person's opinion of you, become you. 

I am not what you think.

I am what I know, deep inside.

Chin up, heart open and soul bared.

Always.

Courtesy Buddha Doodles

A letter to my kids

Dear Nolan, Brooklyn and Ethan,

It's been a pretty great year, hasn't it? I wanted to take some time to share with you a few things I learned in 2015, now that it's coming to a close. I hope that someday you'll read this and find some comfort in these lessons.

First Lesson
The first lesson that's really stuck with me this year is the importance of taking care of my heart and soul, my spiritual self. You see, when you all came into my life, my focus really shifted from being Pam to being your mom. In doing so, I naturally put my needs at the bottom of my priority list. Slowly but surely I lost myself, my interests and hobbies, my personal passions, and began to carry around guilt any time I prioritized my own well being. Leaving my full time career further resulted in less time for self, and while I have been incredibly blessed to be your full time caregiver and mama, somewhere in the last four years I lost myself as a woman and spiritual being.

The big lesson I've discovered is this: I am a much better mother when I take time for myself each and every week, aiming for daily whenever possible. This might be a simple guided meditation, reading, creative writing or even putting you all in front of the TV so I can cook alone in the kitchen. I have discovered that dedication to self is not selfish, but one of the most outwardly beneficial choices I have made for our family. Remember this, as you juggle and prioritize in the future.

Second Lesson
Believe it or not, I learned a lot about hair this year. Weird, right?

One of my newest friends, a dance mama met at Brooklyn's dance studio, taught me that hair should be embraced, regardless of what it looks like. She lost hers during her battle with breast cancer, and as she fought her butt off this last year to kick cancer to the curb, her determination to be well really struck me. I used to spend so much time complaining about my 'boring straight hair', yet she was without any at all. As this year went on, Brookie and I decided to grow and donate ours, as a way to honour our awesome new friend. Of course Brooklyn had no problem at all cutting 12 inches off and rocking an adorable bob, but here I am, still growing it (almost 10 inches now) and every single time I want to cut it off because its driving me nuts, every time I see a shiny little grey staring back at me in the mirror, I think of my new friend. Her determination to be well. Her passionate zest for life.

You see, hair will grow, be cut, grey and maybe even recede over time, but in the grand scheme of things, embracing it in whatever shape, form or length you are given will remind you to focus on the great gifts in your life, not vanity in the mirror. Remember that even without an ounce of hair on your head you will be loved, honoured and cherished in every way.

Third Lesson
Remember when we decided to adopt Mae earlier this year? Remember how excited we all were and how much we instantly fell in love with her? Well guess what? Daddy and I struggled every single day for the first two months after bringing her home. Accidents in the house. Biting incidents. One food challenge with Moe resulting in curled lips and scary growls. Midnight barking fits begging to go outside because she ate something she shouldn't have earlier in the night.

Adopting an animal is NOT EASY. Let me repeat this. Adopting a pet is INSANELY DIFFICULT. The emotional toll of integrating animals into a family home is not an experience to be taken lightly. Having said that, as an adult, not all of your decisions will have everyone standing behind you in agreement. Sometimes you must go with your gut instinct, find the tools you need to make your instinct a reality and let the rest go. It's really tough, but remember that when you are faced with a decision, make it a quickly as possible and then forget it. The moment of absolute certainty never arrives.

Now, six months later, I feel in my heart that little miss Mae was brought into our lives to teach all three of you a lesson in unconditional love. What it looks like, how difficult it can be, and (hopefully) the pay off when you put your heart and soul into making something's life better than it ever imagined was possible.

Fourth Lesson
Lastly, and most importantly, this year your Daddy and I learned an enormous lesson about our relationship. You likely never noticed, but this year was incredibly difficult for us. There was a very long, three month period of time when I wasn't working. This meant we lived on one income, which paid our bills just fine but left us without a single extra cent for anything else. Our savings filled the gap for the first seven weeks or so, but after that your Daddy and I were overcome with worry, anxiety and the feeling of intense failure.

Here's the cool part; in the face of very negative circumstances, we were rock solid. We didn't fight, hold grudges or blame each other. In fact the opposite occurred. We held each other tighter, cried together and worked hand in hand to make significant changes to our financial future. In hindsight, we were gifted this challenge to show us the depth of our relationship and love for one another. Your Daddy is my best friend, and I pray each of you will meet someone equally wonderful someday down the road.

So there you have it kiddos, Mommy sure has learned a lot this year. Life continues to supply its challenges but when I choose radical acceptance of the situation I have discovered an ability to more calmly and assertively respond to any challenge set before me.

You three are my obsession.
My every moment is consumed with my love for each one of you.
It is my daily prayer that you will each grow in love of self, our family and of your very blessed life.
I pray your spirituality will also grow in whichever way you feel called.
And my goal as your mom is to continuously show you that kindness, compassion and grace will always lead you down the righteous path.

All my love, forever and always.
xoxo
Mommy

orange + purple + blue = family

It's hard to believe I'm having another baby.

I struggled with the decision to be 'done' with two, as the final arguments pitted my reasonable mind against my needy heart. I'd heard all the logical arguments... the world is built for a family of four... middle children struggle... there's only three bedrooms... children shouldn't outnumber their parents... tuition will be a zillion dollars by then...

Yet it only took one photo to confirm that my heart spoke louder, more clearly than any argument based on fact or currency. This photo, a simple shot of my kids on the dock at their grandparents' cottage, left me feeling as though something was missing. This simple open space was my sure sign of room for another sibling.

B and N, first weekend at the cottage in 2012

I'd always said that if we chose to have another baby we'd never find out the sex. What did it matter anyways, as we'd already been blessed with one of each? Well that all changed when we shared the news with N and B that mommy was pregnant, as they immediately concluded it was a sister... end of story. I couldn't imagine them visiting me in the hospital and being somehow disappointed that the outcome was different they we'd led them to believe. They knew it was God's decision to make, not ours, however in order to give them enough time to adjust we chose to find out the sex of the baby. Good choice, as little sister was replaced with ultrasound confirmation of a little brother :)

I've been utterly disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm for this little bean from strangers and well-meaning friends/relatives alike. I've been hit with more 'are you guys nuts?' and 'you have no idea how much you'll struggle!' than I care to count. As if our decision was made to somehow lessen our family dynamic instead of enrich it with more love and laughter. I still don't get it. A child is blessing, never to be thought of as anything less.

The third time around each little kick and punch still amazes me, leaves me staring at my belly and wondering what he will look like, who he will become. The heartburn, nausea and swollen feet are still issues, but have taken a backseat to ordinary days spent enjoying the company of my kiddos while balancing freelance projects late into the evenings.

Despite the uncomfortable sleep and aching back I cannot imagine myself any other way. My desire to be a mother, to once again grow a little miracle and share him with the world, is much stronger than I'd ever imagined. Ten years ago I was talking about fancy cars, big houses and a forward-marching career. Not so much at the moment, as my desire to be a mother continues to lead every decision I make. I'm left to borrow my bff's purses (although gorgeous) because all I can afford is a new, utilitarian diaper bag designed for three children's belongings.

Behind closed doors we continue to prepare as a family. We talk about our little baby boy with love and enthusiasm. We discuss baby names, toys meant for sharing and songs we can sing to 'our baby.' N and B happily became roomies in order to give their new sibling-to-be his own space. An adjustment met with very few concerns and more time spent worrying than was necessary.

The baby's room is nearly complete, bedding washed and books in place. Plenty of hand-me-downs from dear family and friends scatter the closet and drawers, a sure sign of the love and kindness he will feel once he arrives. He's a lucky kid, really, to be surrounded but such intense affection and support. It's something I will never allow him to take for granted, it's something too precious to forget.

As a tribute to his older siblings, little splotches of orange and purple paint still show on the baseboard of his now-blue room. My hubby said he just couldn't paint over it, or remove it, as it seemed so fitting that a little piece of our other children remained behind in this shared nursery.

What seemed like our painting errors on display has actually become a work of family art, a visual reminder of the trials, triumphs and new found love we found in raising each of our children. A reminder that, in our world at least, nothing happens without a reason. It is the simplest display which highlights our most important accomplishments.

Poverty, uniforms and Christmas clothes

Last week our local Catholic School Board passed a motion to bring a standardized dress code (read: uniforms) to all elementary schools, beginning next September. The Policy wording states that their goal is to create a 'unified sense of belonging for all students' and 'equalize all students regardless of a family's socio-economic background.'

I understand the appeal, I went to a high school with uniforms and loved them. I didn't have to consider what I what to wear on any given morning, nor did I worry about whether it had the right label on it or not. Unfortunately, this only counted for tops and bottoms - shoes were still an important designation of 'coolness' as was jewellry, coats, backpacks and the like. Uniforms didn't exactly create a unified school - there were still jocks, geeks and mean girls. student council types, prefects, drama kids and the football team. Regardless of what went on your body, you were judged based on the classes you frequented, the friends you hung out with and whether or not you skipped on 'skip day.' Oh, the pressure.

Fast forward and here I am, a 30-year old parent with two lovely kiddos (and a third on the way). I very much value the Catholic school system as I love that each day my son (in afternoons JK) learns not only his ABCS, but about the role of faith in his every day life. He has made the transition to student with relative ease; making friends, learning without disrupting others and even (gasp) completing homework on occasion.

Ironically, my son is attending the same school as I did many years ago. This school is set in a small corner of a very tight-knit community, touting many blue collar workers and a large variety of families. We consider ourselves 'average', whatever that means. We are not wealthy, but we are able to put food on the table and send our children to swimming lesssons. We are not hung up on brands, however I do prefer to purchase quality children's clothing and shoes. I'll even admit I shop mostly in the USA, as the cost of orthopaedic shoes is less than half the cost as in our neck of the woods. I can easily outfit my children for $10-15 per day, and quality clothes that wash and wear well are only replaced when they no longer fit or are appropriate for the ever-changing seasons.

So why the beef with uniforms? Good question.

Part of me is concerned about the ongoing cost of regulated clothing. I appreciate that the School Board revised the policy to state that certain colours and styles are required, not one brand of embroidered top and bottom. Yet, can I seriously outfit my children at my self-imposed price point, all season long? Inevitably they grow, more often at the most inconvenient times. How often and how many of each item will be required?

I'm also worried about my son's reaction to the news that his favourite fire truck shirts and shoes are no longer welcome at school. Most parents rely on the ability to convince a child it's time to get dressed because there's a flashy (insert fun character here) shirt at hand if they listen the first time and get dressed. How do I explain that his teachers are allowed to wear whatever colour of tops and bottoms they'd like to, while he must sport navy or white tops and navy bottoms regardless of what strikes his fancy that morning. I can't even imagine what his little sister is going to do without the ability to wear pink daily.

Mostly I worry that uniforms are just an excuse, another opportunity to 'mask' the poverty that exists in our school system, in every system. I honestly don't remember the clothes my classmates wore in elementary school, however I do remember the student with elastic bands holding his shoes together, as well as the classmate who smelled so bad no-one would sit near him. This is the side of poverty that uniforms simply cannot unify.

I distinctly remember a child, in my grade three class, who ran around for weeks before Christmas shouting "Christmas clothes! Christmas clothes!" whenever we spoke about the holidays and our pending school Christmas concert. We jeered him I'm sad to say, as he seemed to sing-song it wherever he went. For YEARS this was a commonly used joke in my class, as eventually that student moved away. I'm sure I even taught my brother the sing-song at some point.

What I realize now, as an adult, is that this child only received new clothes at Christmas. But once a year. He was so excited for his 'Christmas Clothes!' because he lived in such poverty that new clothes were out of the question. My heart sinks now when I think of this child, what a life he must have led.

Would uniforms have made his life better or worse? I don't know the answer to that but I do know that if my teachers and perhaps even my parents had really listened and realized the underlying issue in this little school yard joke - we, at age 8, did not understand what poverty was - then perhaps this child would have celebrated without judgement or jeering from his peers.

Poverty exists in our own school, our community and beyond. We need to teach our children what it looks and feels like in order to support their acceptance of others less fortunate than ourselves.

Uniforms or not, my children will understand that while they cannot always change the cycle of poverty, they will be required to support their peers, regardless of whether or not they have new clothes at Christmas time.

Four life lessons learned from my four year old.

Tomorrow marks a special occasion - my son Nolan's fourth birthday. I'm really struggling with this one, it seems like only yesterday he was my 'little babah', swaddled in my arms, snuggling on my chest. Here we are now, a mere two months away from his first day of junior kindergarten. Seriously, where has the time gone?

Life with Nolan has been nothing short of a roller coaster. From a calm baby to a rambuncious toddler, on to a stubborn preschooler and now, well, I'd suggest he's become quite the negotiator these days. Every question begs for an explanation as to why he should be allowed to (fill-in-the-blank here). He's an eager communicator, chatterbox some say, unless of course his favorite show is on TV. That's about our only quiet time these days :)

As I look back on the last four years, I'd like to think I've taught Nolan a trick or two. How to drink from straw, wash his hands and make his bed. How to ask for help, use his manners and give really great hugs. Funny thing is, as I reflect I realize he's taught me some valuable lessons, too. In honour of his fourth, here's a list of the top four things he's taught me:

Number four:


Cutest. Costume. Ever.

It's fun to play dress-up once in awhile! Nolan is such a free spirit, he often surprises Jay and I by walking into the family room dressed in his giraffe Halloween costume. It's hilarious and he knows it, often leaving our entire family in happy tears on the floor. Just yesterday he received a fantastic knit firefighter hat... he's had it on ever since, even in the summer heat! It didn't matter to him that he looked different, or that it was funny, he was just happy being himself.


Yup, McDonalds. His favorite place. In his new hat.

What a cool kid and a cool idea. I bet on those crappy, cranky days we'd have much better luck making ourselves smile if we wore an ugly tie (I found a few doozies in Jay's wardrobe pre-dating our marriage), a retro coat (think circa 1993 surf-sytle hypercolour popovers) or perhaps just donned a ridiculous goofy hat with ears before paying the bills. Laughter is the best family medicine, thanks to Nolan's lead I'm going to try this more often.

Number three:
Little things mean more! What surprises me most about Nolan is his uncanny ability to appreciate life's little things. It's a bird digging for worms, an airplane's loud engine off in the distance sky, the way he lights up when his sister shares her snack and most of all the way a siren of any kind, at any pitch, can send him screaming 'did you hear that!' wherever we go.


Absolutely nuts for sirens, at his first parade.

Why is it that as adults we lose our ability to appreciate such simple gifts? My mom always says, 'little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems.' The beauty is that little kids also appreciate all the little joys around them. Everything is a new adventure, every day an exciting new challenge.  My goal is to stop and enjoy these little gifts WITH him, double the joy and fun.

Number two:
Eat your veggies - raw! I've never seen a child eat raw veggies quite like my son. Every colour, shape and size, it doesn't really matter to him. He DEVOURS them. Enjoys every mouthful. Sometimes I swear I can see the vitamins and minerals nourishing his already-healthy complexion even more. I've never been a huge raw veggie eater, however seeing him eat such a naturally healthy, wholesome food reminds me that I can do a better job myself. In this case my son is modelling the way for me.


Plate loaded with veggies at his party!

and the number one thing Nolan has taught me is...

There are a million ways to tell someone you love them! Forget a million, it's likely at a zillion by now. Nolan tells me every day, in every way, that I am loved. From the moment he runs into my room each morning to hug me I know that our love is both deep-rooted and mutal. He holds my hand, cuddles in my lap, begs for me to read him stories and calls for me the moment he's hurt. He shares his accomplishments, demonstrates his new skills and belts out top 40 hits every morning at breakfast while we laugh and dance.

A few weeks ago at bedtime we snuggled into his bed and talked about 'big boy school'. I was telling him how much he was going to love it, how he'd learn so many new things and meet new friends in his class. I told him how proud I was of him, but that I was going to miss him. At that moment he rested his hand on my head, looked me square in the eyes and said, 'I'll still love you when I go to big boy school mama." Talk about love. What a kid.

Happy 4th birthday to my not-so-little Babah, my Noly, my handsome, empathetic son Nolan. Mommy loves you more than you could ever imagine possible.
xo