Fantastic Fifteen

It's not that I forgot his birthday. I didn't. But the day was a rush as he and his sister were leaving on a school band trip to Toronto to see the incredible Ben Hepner in the musical, Titanic (the kids raved about it after).

And from there we raced north for a weekend in Creemore and to take our youngest to a provincial oratorical competition in nearby Barrie.

And this week was a blur of excitement with things going on that I hope to talk about soon.

Suffice to say, that his birthday celebrations sorta got lost in the chaos. 

Oh we had birthday lemon meringue at a Great Aunt Elvina's in Toronto. And his sister and best buddy from school took hm shopping in Toronto for presents (a Darth Vadar coffee mug from Anna; a Vadar watch from John....I sense a theme here😀)

But I never really got to celebrate with him. First birthday ever I never spent with him (yeah, a little sniff there!).

He's at the age where he doesn't want me waxing poetic about him. So I won't.

Except to say this: Happy 15th birthday to my eldest. You rock!

Then:

Now:

Buzzing Blossoms

You can hear the buzzing the second you step outside. The trees are filled with a hum deep and primal and it brings me joy cause it means the bees are back in full force.

The heady scent of apple blossom hangs thick in the air, and I open all the windows this long weekend to let those aromas inside on the wafting summery breeze.

In the gardens, I dig some weeks out to make room for the sprouting heirloom peonies we rescued from an abandoned farm long ago, cut some tender asparagus spears for dinner, and contemplate young rhubarb stalks for a desser 'fool' tomorrow, having a short conversation with a startled toad who has made his home in the raspberry canes.

At the end of the day it's cider on the veranda with a hundred songbirds providing the orchestral backdrop.

It's a short season. But oh, so beautiful.

Dark earth. Birdsong. Buzzing bees. And one fat toad.

Twelve

Oh my darling, where have the years gone?

Part of me yearns for days and years gone by. Not because you were cute and sweet and innocent and inquisitive and joyful. You were - and still are - all these things. And I wouldn't trade who you are now for who you were then. But if I could go back and do it all over again....I would. In a heartbeat. Just to have the chance to spend all that time with you once more.

The future stretches out and there is much to look forward to. And I see you. Strong. Confident. Smart. Funny. A bit sassy. Curious. Independent. 

You are going to rock this world with your computer coding, your fearlessness, your karate, your love of adventure, your vision. And I look forward to seeing what you accomplish next.

Happy birthday! 

Whovian Mom

Anna posted a picture to my Facebook page, with a comment stating that I am the #bestmomeverinthewholeoftimeandspace.

(Yes. She got Brownie Points for that.)

The point is that she posted this:

It's a fact that we are all big Doctor Who fans. And if I wore t-shirts (I really don't, except to the gym), this would be a fun one.

So I thought it was cute. And was going to post a cute but bland comment back when I realized, hey, I'm creative. I can do so much better than that.

Here's what I wrote.

Rules for Life from your Whovian Mom aka #bestmomeverinthewholeoftimeandspace: 

1) the Tardis is bigger on the inside....and so would your room be if you cleaned it

2) you can't go too far wrong having a sense of respect and wonder for the universe and everything in it (like the Doctor does)

3) if the Doctor invites you on an adventure, make sure you have one of those intergalactic cell phones so you can call home

4) control your technology....so that it doesn't end up controlling you in some massive alien takeover. (Related: have an inherent distrust of anyone telling you what to think...unless it's me; that's different!)

5) yes, I am your mummy (which makes me very happy😘)

Challenge Accepted

Saturday last week was Maker Day, a day when I challenge kids to do something creative. Often this results in coding for Grace, writing for Anna, passive avoidance for Erik (though he did manage a humourous speech last week).

But when I am motivated to encourage them (instead of spending the day lazily with a book), there have been some cool project: a papier mâché Smaug the Dragon, stop motion video, origami wildlife diorama, and...most recently...the start of a Doctor Who episode screenplay.

Smaug

Doctor Who Meets Grace

I should not be surprised, I suppose, that they turned the tables on me this week, challenging me to create a photo montage of images to show the beauty of the small things that surround us in our daily lives.

So here it is.....via SlideShare

Beauty every day from Denise Callister-Nielsen

Wide Sargasso Sea

This novel, by Jean Rhys, is one I picked up at my last shopping spree in my favourite used bookstore in Kingston, Ontario (see below for view from the snug Sir John A's Pub - the former law office of our first Prime Minister - across the road).

As a kid, I used to tell my brother scary takes of the madwoman in the attic and we used to huddle under our attic trapdoor in shivering delightful fear, so I suppose the story of Bertha in Jane Eyre has always been of interest. I've known OF this book, but have never read it until now. I think giving a voice and a backstory to Bertha is a fairly brilliant idea, and the postmodern, feminist interpretation this novel offers is both startlingly complex, and poetically simple.

A short read, but not, I think, an easy one. I'm not sure how well readers unfamiliar with Jane Eyre will understand the plot, though the deep psychological aspects are well done and unsettling even without context. Some of the language is beautifully rendered and the imagery is evocative of both time and place, and an ironic sense of being in a dream. 

I found myself pausing to investigate Creole history in the first section, and enjoying the descriptive details. The second section gave insight into her husband....and I admit I wasn't wholly sold on their relationship, and her  descent into madness...but I found the name change to Bertha both powerful and horrifying. The final section, short and direct, offered explanation and perhaps a sense of forgiveness for the woman whose final act leads to the culmination of one of the classic novels of the 19th century.

We have been talking....I have been ranting....about how Jane Eyre is thematically a 19th century version of 50 Shades. Much better written, I grant, but when I re-read Jane Eyre last year, I was horrified to discover how different it was than what I remember. Gone was Rochester as romantic hero. In his place was a lying, manipulative, demanding wealthy man who bullied and abused the innocent servant girl in his employ. I mean yeah, context of its time and all that, but essentially an imbalance of power. So reading Wide Sargasso Sea came at the right time for me.

PS: I still like Jane Eyre. And Wuthering Heights. But Rochester? Heathcliffe? How could I have been so wrong about them all these years? 

PPS: Erik enjoying the used bookstore (see below).

Doors

I noticed tonight, as I'm upstairs running a hot bath filled with perfumed bubbles to take away the stress of a long day at work, and chasing lazy cats off my work jacket  which I stupidly left on the bed this morning, and listening to jazz, which my rather fantastic DH left playing--along with a plate chicken and a tossed salad he made for my dinner before stoking the fire and taking kids into Montreal for scouts--I noticed the girls' bedroom doors.

They have white boards which often have things like "Grace's Room....Enter at your Peril" written, or more sweetly, a stirring quote frm a novel (The Hobbit has featured more than once). But tonight, something made me look closer,

Both girls recently achieved their black belts in karate. A proud moment to be sure, and my youngest, 11-year-old Grace has this:

My heart swelled. So happy for her.

My middle child and oldest daughter, Anna, aged 13, eschewed black belt pride for more important matters: the return of her favourite soccer team...and in particular one handsome inspirational goaltender.

They made me laugh. The day was better even before the bubble bath.

PS: