Gratitude

On Monday morning, I snuck out of the kitchen, while the boys were working on their math lesson, to clean up my room. Have I told you how amazing these two boys have been this week as we jump back into our homeschooling routine? It is nothing short of a miracle, but anyhoo . . . I was dusting off the top of my dresser, when all of a sudden I had this overwhelming feeling of gratitude overcome me, and I began to cry. Looking at all the pictures and the various crafts the kids have made me over the years that adorn the top of my dresser, I thought to myself:

I can't believe they are all mine. I have been given so much!

Zoe, my beautiful young woman, who inspires me and who makes me strive to do better each and every day. 

Elliot, my tender-hearted boy, who has taught me more than anyone else and who has made me the mom I am today.

Avery, my baby boy, who fills my life with smiles, joy and laughter.

And Thing 4, my bonus baby, who is a constant reminder to me that God lives, that He knows me, that He answers prayers, and that He loves me.

I am so truly blessed!

I wonder if these two kids could have ever imagined nineteen years ago, when this photo was taken, just how amazing their life together was going to turn out?

I can honestly say they had no clue, but they had hope, and they worked awfully hard to get to where they are today.

Thank you, Heavenly Father. Thank you.

Is March the New August?

All I can say is:

Pinch me, I must have been dreaming!

Yesterday was phenomenal!  Not only was the weather great, but Elliot was on fire.  He sprang out of bed at 6:45 ready to take on the day.  It was a dream come true; one of God's tender mercies to remind me that yes, I can do this. 



After a fantastic morning of school, the boys and I headed up to MCS so the boys could have recess with their friends.  I am so thankful for the supportive school community we have here in Kingston.

Then we came home to enjoy the 34'C weather in our own backyard.

It was magnificent!

Elliot wanted to go fishing.  And even though nothing was biting, he sat there for an hour and half, enjoying the sunshine and the calm waters.  He really needed this after the busy morning he had.

Avery, on the other hand, is always looking for some action.

First, he thought a dip in river would be fun!

A little too cold for even this monkey.

After his feet went numb, he claimed it was really relaxing.  Sure!

But Scout thought the water was just right!

Then Avery and Scout decided to explore the rocks.

But not before, Scout dried off:

He's such a cool guy!

On their hunt, Scout found a critter that wasn't too happy to see him.  There was a whole lot of barking and hissing going on, but, luckily, that was all.  Avery found a few bird feathers and a bone:

You may be wondering why Avery put his shirt back on.  Well, it was after he saw this guy flying around us:

A bat!  And according to Avery, it was a vampire bat!  So he whipped his shirt back on to prevent it from sucking his blood . . . tee hee!

As you can see, we were having a blast, but reality was calling, and it was time to head back up to the house to make supper.

Being a beautiful August-like day, I decided the first BBQ of the season was in order.

Mmmmm . . . . grilled chicken salad!  Delightful!

But, the boys were still not done with the sun.   They grabbed a beach blanket, and some paper and pencils, and my aspiring comic book artists were off:

I am so blessed to be able to spend my days with these two guys. 

Now, if only we could convince Zoe of how great homeschooling is . . .

tee hee!

Where Were You Ten Years Ago?

As I opened my Twitter account and scanned my favourite blogs this morning, I was bombarded with the same message: "where were you on 9/11?".

Where was I?

It's funny, like most people, I remember the day quite vividly.

It was my first day back at university, and it was a fantastic morning.  A move and a colicky baby had made for one miserable summer, and I was eager for the fresh start a new school year had to offer.  It was exhilarating, after months of consoling a super cranky Elliot and running after my super busy and very inquisitive three year old Zoe, to be finally out on my own once again and having adult conversations that centred upon books.  I sat in my best friend/mentor/prof, Sarah Maier's office drinking tea (pre-Mormon days) and making plans for my Honours thesis that was quickly approaching. It was delightful!! At noon, I practically skipped out of the university and into the front seat of our car, where Mr. Level-Headed was waiting to bring me home.  I hopped in, brimming with excitement and feeling engorged from being away from my little man for so long, but as I turned to Derrick about to bombard him with all my delightful impressions of the day, I froze.  Something was wrong.  Mr. Level-Headed, who always greets me with a smile and a "there's my beautiful girl" (I know, I am completely spoiled), simply asked "did you hear?".  Judging from the sullen look on his face, I immediately knew that whatever I had not heard was not going to be good.  Rather than tell me, he turned the radio back on and stared blankly at the dashboard. 

The Twin Towers have just been hit by an airplane!

I was shocked.  At that moment, fear permeated my body, and I demanded that he get me home to my babies.  For the first time in my life, I was speechless.  Our silence was eery, and the images running through my head were equally disturbing.

As we approached the babysitter's house, Mr. Level-Headed, always being the level-headed one, asked me to act like nothing had happened so as not to scare Zoe.  Luckily for him, I was so numb with fear that I was able to grant him this wish.  I greeted our sitter, the lovely Ms. Taryn Whipple, who by the way is an amazing babysitter if you are ever in need of one, and in one brief glance we silently shared our fears and our anxiety.  

How did the kids make out?

Yes, Zoe that is a lovely picture you drew. Let's help clean up now.

See you tomorrow!

And off we went. 

Having my babies securely fastened in the backseat of the car, I started to feel more in control and more at peace.  When we got home, we continued on with our charade like nothing had happened.  Mr. Level-Headed went back to work, and I nursed Elliot while Zoe played in our back yard.  I remember sitting there with the sun beating down on me, cradling Elliot in my arms, watching Zoe capture grasshoppers and thinking "what is this going to mean to them?".  "How is this going to change our life?".  "Will we now live in constant fear of external threats?".

That night, after I had bathed Zoe and put her to bed, we turned the television on and were inundated with the horrific images of the Twin Towers collapsing.  Bit by bit, reports were coming in and the story started to emerge.  We were introduced to phrases that would quickly become all too familiar to us like: the Taliban, Bin Laden, 9/11, and so on.  As Mr. Level-Headed sat on the couch with Elliot curled up on his chest, I swept.  I swept and swept.  It was all I could do to keep myself from falling apart.  Sweeping my floor made me feel like I was doing my part to put the world back in order.  Crazy? Yes!  OCD? Yes!  But, I kept on sweeping.  All of sudden, our once impermeable nation had become vulnerable, and I did not know how to handle it.

What will be attacked next?

Could the Point Lepreau Nuclear station become a target?

Are we going to war?

Will Derrick have to go?

and so on and so on. 

So, where was I on 9/11?

As it turned out, I, thankfully, was encircled within a protective bubble.  9/11 did not have a direct impact on me or my family.  Nothing changed for us.

Life went on as usual.  Elliot remained colicky, Zoe continued to be inquisitive, Mr. Level-Headed was level-headed, and I?  Well, I carried on sweeping . . . and still do.  The world is chaotic, and our lives, at times, are even more chaotic, but each night I sweep up the pieces of my day, sift through each moment in an attempt to capture the most precious, the most touching, the most interesting and the most uplifting instances and sweep them into a nice, neat pile, where I carefully gather them in and turn them into something beautiful . . . something orderly . . . something tangible,

my blog. 

This is where I make sense of my life.  This is how I put the world back into order . . . one story at a time.

And, thankfully, 9/11 isn't one of my stories.

Our thoughts and prayers here at Shenanigans Inc.go out to all those families whose stories, unfortunately, were touched by the events of 9/11. 

A Lesson in Gratitude

By now, I think you are well aware that we had a pretty fantabulous Canada Day here at Shenanigans Inc.  It was a shenanigan-filled day with lots of laughter and plenty of smiles.  But what you may not be aware of is how I woke up that morning in one terribly awful, foul mood.  I woke up that morning unable to greet the day with my usual sun-shiny disposition and wanting nothing more than to bury my head under the blankets and lie there waiting for the day to pass. I just didn't think I could get up and take care of my family with so much grief bearing down on my heart.

You see, for two years now my sweetheart and I have been trying to have another baby.  We spent the first year in countless doctors appointments enduring a number of invasive tests and, ultimately, wrapped it up with one final surgery that was going to end my infertility once and for all.  We were elated!  A baby by summer was all we could think of, and it consumed me.  Every night I would get on my knees and plead with my Heavenly Father for this miracle to happen.  Every night I would drift off to sleep with visions of kissing chubby baby cheeks and holding a warm little body in my arms once again.

But it hasn't happened.

And month after month I discover that I am not pregnant.

Some months, I can shrug it off and say "Oh well, perhaps next month".

But other months, I can not bear the disappointment and my friends fear, despair and doubt show up to help me kick off the pity party.

This is how I woke up on Canada Day.

I wanted to roll over and let each of them take a kick at me.  The pain was better than the subsequent emptiness that inevitably follows one of these parties.

But, I didn't.  I dragged my butt out of bed and resolved that this would not break me.

I can do hard things!

I jumped in the shower and allowed my tears to be washed away by the hot water.

With fear, despair and doubt now neatly tucked away, I walked out into my kitchen determined to make the best of a difficult day.

Unfortunately, even though I had bid farewell to my three unwanted guests, their absence left me irritable, and when mama is cranky no one is happy.  I felt terrible.  I could see how my foul mood was affecting everyone around me, but I didn't know how to turn it around.  I guess in my prayers that morning I forgot to ask Heavenly Father to not only help me endure the day but to do so joyfully . . . oops! So, I left my family to discuss our plans for the day and I gave myself a time-out on the deck with my Iphone.  Ahhh . . .  the sweet distraction of technology.  As I was scrolling through my Twitter updates, a blog caught my eye and so I creeped.  The blog was written by a woman who had not one but two severely disabled sons, one of whom had passed away three years ago.  As I scrolled through the pictures of her sharing her day with her son who is unable to speak or walk, I was truly humbled.  Here was a woman with an actual burden to bear and she was carrying it with joy.  I was so ashamed.  How I could be so ungrateful?  Why do I feel entitled to get everything I want when I have already been given so much?  So for the second time that day, I walked back into my kitchen, but this time simply enduring the day was no longer my objective, I was determined to enjoy it . . . and I did just that!

 I may not have the number of children I want, but I have children.  I have healthy children, and I am going to enjoy every minute I have with them.

If you, too, need a lesson in gratitude, read her blog.  You just may never complain again.