Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

You made it look so easy – mothering young children. Between balancing the needs of two small kids, the operations involved in running a household, being an attentive wife and excelling at your career; you made it seem as though there were never any sacrifices or heartache, loneliness or times of unease.  Like a director behind the camera, you orchestrated our lives without ever taking the spotlight.

Six years ago I learned one of the guarded secrets of motherhood, one that won’t be found in any book or on any blog, but revealed itself the instant my newborn was placed in my arms. With motherhood came a realization that I will never again think just of myself. Every thought from the most mundane to the dreamiest fantasies that occupy my mind will always carry with it the needs of three little people.

I thought you did this mothering job effortlessly. But I was wrong. You worked. You worked tirelessly, selflessly and endlessly to give us a solid foundation of values upon which to build our independence. You did this while reading stories, walking us to school, building forts, snuggling in on movie nights and never ceasing to cheer us on.  You gave us a childhood that storybook tales are based on.

I know now that you silently struggled too. You were not a deity that immaculately bore her children, but just a regular girl who had babies. You struggled to find your self, your voice and balance, just like me.  Just like most moms.

The bar is set high. There are days when I feel so selfish for wanting more, wanting it all and yet I am humbled by what you did for us without ever acknowledging that some of the choices you made mustn’t have been easy.  But that’s what a good mother does.  A good mother doesn’t push the weight of their world onto their children.  Like an illusionist, she allows her children to see only what she wants them to.

I wish that I had your patience, your calm and your perspective. I admit that I often feel as though I am losing my way and not only myself but the kind of mother I strive to be. Still when I feel like I am faltering I turn to you for support, guidance, and reassurance. Instead of looking up at you for answers and love like I once did, I look to you. And you have yet to let me down.

Once I became a mother you told me that the hardest part about mothering was learning how to not be a mother.  It took me years to understand what you meant by that and although my boys still cling to my skirt, I am terrified for the day when I will have to loosen my grip and eventually let go.

It is true, mom, that I do not need you anymore. You have given me direction, your strength and a ground on which to stand.  You have nourished my mind, body and soul for years and given me the fundamentals to raise my boys with the same unconditional love and immeasurable encouragement that you gave me.

You’re right, mom.  I do not need you anymore.  But I will always want you.

Thank you, Mr. Sendak

We learned today that Maurice Sendak, author and illustrator of such children’s classics as Where the Wild Things Are  passed away this morning, as a result of a stroke on Friday. He was 83.

It’s rare to find someone of my generation who did not read at least one of Sendak’s books as a child. I still have, from my childhood,  a hard-backed, well-worn copy of Else Homelund Minarik’s Little Bear. Little Bear was one of my first favourite books. I adored Sendak’s illustrations and spent hours looking at his drawings as I tried to decipher the words that accompanied them.  Sendak’s illustrations are  warm, and funny without being sentimental. There was a comfort in those drawings; a gentle reassurance that despite Little Bear’s (and our own, by extension) foibles, he would always be loved and cherished. I’m sure I couldn’t have articulated that thought, then; I just knew that something about those drawings made me happy.

Years later, I read that book to each of my boys, together pausing to giggle over the predicament of the bear who was too cold to play outside without snow pants, but who found his own pelt warmest of all; and rejoicing at the kind surprise of a birthday cake. Likewise, when the boys were small I found myself turning the tables on my own little Wild Things, threatening each that given the chance, I would eat them up, I love them so, only to have each flee to their rooms in mock horror, shouting “No!”.

It is the darker, harsher Sendak with whom most of us are more familiar: the disobedient Max and the petulant Pierre, whose only words are “I don’t care!” It is this version of which many of us are most fond. Sendak recognized that childhood is not all sunshine and happiness. It’s really a place of uncertainty. Children lack power, and they know that. Sendak’s best work illustrates what happens to a child in a fantasy world where they are in charge, safe in the knowledge that when things get out of hand, there is a safe place for them, and their food will still be hot when they return to it. Said Sendak:

“And it is through fantasy that children achieve catharsis. It is the best means they have for taming wild things.”

It’s a testament to his gift that so many of us revisit his work time and time again now with our own children, encouraging them to tame their own wild things.

Wild Things Mural in the Children’s Section of the Richland County Library, Columbia, SC. Photo credit : Gerald Brazell on Flickr,  2011.

Get Outside!

Great Britain’s National Trust has come up with a list of 50 things to do before you are 11 3/4.  They include skipping stones, climbing trees, observing rock pools, calling owls, and sliding in the mud.

The list makes a great activity to print up, read together and check off.  Then, when you have the list of things still to complete, head outdoors and have some old school fun.

Here is the complete list.

image credit

1. Climb a tree

2. Roll down a really big hill

3. Camp out in the wild

4. Build a den

5. Skim a stone

6. Run around in the rain

7. Fly a kite

8. Catch a fish with a net

9. Eat an apple straight from a tree

10. Play conkers

11. Throw some snow

12. Hunt for treasure on the beach

13. Make a mud pie

14. Dam a stream

15. Go sledging

16. Bury someone in the sand

17. Set up a snail race

18. Balance on a fallen tree

19. Swing on a rope swing

20. Make a mud slide

21. Eat blackberries growing in the wild

22. Take a look inside a tree

23. Visit an island

24. Feel like you’re flying in the wind

25. Make a grass trumpet

26. Hunt for fossils and bones

27. Watch the sun wake up

28. Climb a huge hill

29. Get behind a waterfall

30. Feed a bird from your hand

31. Hunt for bugs

32. Find some frogspawn

33. Catch a butterfly in a net

34. Track wild animals

35. Discover what’s in a pond

36. Call an owl

37. Check out the crazy creatures in a rock pool

38. Bring up a butterfly

39. Catch a crab

40. Go on a nature walk at night

41. Plant it, grow it, eat it

42. Go wild swimming

43. Go rafting

44. Light a fire without matches

45. Find your way with a map and compass

46. Try bouldering

47. Cook on a campfire

48. Try abseiling

49. Find a geocache

50. Canoe down a river

Four Parties for a Four Year Old

Like Beth-Anne, we celebrated a child turning four this month.  Unlike Beth-Anne, who very sensibly had one big pirate party, we did it four times.

There was the party with friends, which happened on a weekend day a few days before the actual birthday.  So far, so good.  Loot bags, alligator cake, balloons, kids playing and having fun for two hours.

Then there was the actual birthday day, which fell in the middle of the week.  On the evening of an older brother’s Very Important Hockey Game.  Restaurant meal at location of birthday boy’s choice, followed by a dash to the rink.

Then, because both sides of the family could not gather on the same day to celebrate four-dom, there were two separate family parties the weekend after the birthday day.  Two more alligator cakes, two more sets of loot bags for the cousins, two more sets of kids playing and having fun for hours.

And one mother who is now suffering from alligator cake burn-out.  (Carol, you may recognize these cupcakes….)  Poor alligators look more and more washed out as I get to the third.  I was pretty green, too, by the time we’d shared three of them.

Friday Fun: Caine’s Arcade

Have you seen this yet? Nine year old Caine Monroy spent last summer built a fully-functioning cardboard arcade inside his father’s autobody shop in Los Angeles, California. In October of last year, a whole bunch of new friends showed up to play:

Go Caine! Kudos to filmmaker Nirvan Mullick, too. “I felt proud”, indeed.

Threshold Moments

We got the little ones into bed on the night before Easter, and my eldest was still dressed and reading when his brothers had been dispatched to dreamland.  He has known for several years now that Mum and Dad are the Easter Bunny, so I went into his room and offered him a choice: he could help me stuff and hide the Easter eggs (and get first dibs on the little Lego sets and action figures) or he could take part in the hunt in the morning with his brothers and wake up to all the surprises.  Without skipping a beat, he said he wanted to help me.  His first instinct was definitely to be in on the secret and part of the grown-up, behind-the-scenes action.

“Are you sure?”  I asked.  (I was, of course, asking, “Are you sure you want firmly to cross this threshold out of innocence and into adulthood, surrendering the joys of the surprise in exchange for the pride and privileges of age?  Are you sure you don’t want to be my baby anymore?!”  No pressure.)

“Yes.”

“O.K.   Go brush your teeth and then come upstairs and you can help me.”

When he came upstairs, before he came into my room and saw the Easter loot, I asked again, “Are you sure?”

And this time, he hesitated.  A lot.  He was really conflicted.

“I don’t know what to do.  I want both.”

And there it was: his own confrontation with the downside to crossing over into adult privilege.  He wanted the fun of hiding eggs for his brothers to find, but he also wanted the fun of the hunt on Easter morning.  We compromised on his hiding just a few, and his Dad would hide the rest, some in places only he’d be able to reach.

And so he crossed a threshold of sorts, in a way that was most comfortable for him.  If only all transitions to adulthood could be made with forethought, choice and the chance to inch into a new self.

Argh, Matey! A Pirate Themed Party

My son celebrated his birthday on April 1.  If ever there was a person more suited to sharing his birthday April Fools, I have yet to meet them.

My mostly vivacious, sometimes naughty and definitely charismatic son turned 4 and with it came a request to have a pirate themed party. And everyone had to dress-up.  Even the grandparents.

There are some great party blogs that offer advice on everything from frugal decorations to menu planning to easy-to-coordinate games.  Some of my favourites are:

The Party Dress

Passion For Parties

The Hostess With The Mostess

Martha Stewart

Here are some pictures from the party.  Hopefully they serve as inspiration for your next ‘do.

A piñata stuffed with loot served as the centerpiece.  The boys had a great time smashing it open and collecting their booty!

I used an old wine bottle case as a treasure chest and stuffed it with costume jewelry and gold covered chocolates.  It made for a simple centerpiece on one of the tables.

 

It’s been years of kitchen disasters but I am happy to say that I am making progress.  These cupcakes are from a mix but I made the icing myself.  The pirate flags and cupcake wrappers are Wilton.

My sister-in-law who knows her way around the kitchen made these pirate cake-pops.  Check out the detail on the face and the cinnamon heart as the knot in the bandana.  I am waiting for her put her recipes together and make a cookbook or start a blog.

And my final effort was the pirate ship cake that I made for my little Captain.   It was surprisingly easy to make, cut up and serve.

What are some of your favourite party blogs?  With three kids, and a large extended family, there is always a reason to have a party.  Please share your go-to resources.

The Eternal Optimism of the Backyard Gardener.

In my mind, I am many things, most of which I won’t share. Because I won’t, so don’t ask.

Of all of those things, I can tell you that one of them is “gardener”. The appellation of “gardener” rests most uneasily, because it really not very true. In fact, it’s not true at all.  As much as I might want it to be the case, I’m really all sweet talk, no action when it comes to putting in a garden, maintaining it, weeding it and watering it. I want all the benefits but none of the work. I want to grow prize-winning tomatoes, but I’m too lazy to stake them. I weed sporadically, usually when I’m on the phone. The only remotely successful thing I’ve (correction: We’ve) ever grown were some green bean plants last summer, which provided us with more green beans than we knew that to do with (I lie: they got turned into pickled green beans and all was right with the world, but I digress). I’m still half-convinced that was a fluke.

Here’s what I do every spring: I always, ALWAYS start every growing season by making a grand plan for the garden. After I’ve decided what I’m going to grow, I fantasize about working in the garden with my boys, teaching them about varietals of flowers, showing them how to pick off the runners on tomato plants. We’ll plant three different types of peppers, twelve herbs, four types of tomatoes, some asparagus, and a full butterfly garden full of indigenous wild flowers. And of course,  it will all fit and grow under the branches of the very large tree in my backyard, whose canopy shades all but a three-by-two foot patch of clay-like soil right at the back of the yard beside where my neighbour keeps her garbage cans.  Won’t it?

Some time in June I’ll buy the best of what’s left at the local garden centre and haphazardly throw it into the soil. By August every year, I have to again face the fact that I’m not really any good at this gardening stuff. I mean, I like it. I know what I’m supposed to do to get the green shoots to keep growing and the pretty things to smell good. I’m just unrealistic about what I can achieve, underwhelmed by how much work I need to do to get even half-way there, and just a bit annoyed that gardening is actually, you know, work, and not just a way to get free tomatoes every night. But that hasn’t stopped me from starting to peruse the seed displays at our local Canadian Tire on my way to work and wondering whether we have enough room to grow watermelons.

Bluebells

On a little patch of the University of Toronto campus, a sea of bluebells appears each spring.  It never fails to amaze me how, almost overnight, the landscape goes from dull brown to green to suddenly bright blue.  I used to walk or take the bus past it each day when my eldest was a baby, and one day I plunked him down on a tree stump in the middle of the blue carpet of flowers, snapped a roll of film, and a tradition was born.

Now, we go back every year to get (digital) pictures of the kids in among all those flowers, which are technically blue scilla.  It’s a bit tricky, making sure that the kids don’t step on the flowers, and I will readily admit that some years, the photographers’ nerves are frayed by the end of the exercise, but the pictures are worth it.

It’s one of my favourite rites of spring.

2004

2008

2009

2004

In the middle of March Break

What a difference a year makes.

This time last year, the boys were desperate to get outside after a long, cold winter. Theyspent a whole afternoon chipping away at the ice in front of the house so that they could play ball hockey on the first sunny, remotely warm afternoon of March break.

 This year? They’re in shorts. It’s (as I type) 17 degrees Celsius outside. As every day from here until September promises to be as reasonably balmy (if not down right hot, by July) as the last, I’m not sensing any urgency in them to get out and enjoy the weather. So, they’re crashed in front of a movie, until I rouse them in a few minutes to go for a walk.

 In case you, like us, have been lulled into a state of inertia by this unseasonably warm weather we’ve been having, here are a few activities going on this week around the city. We still hope to check a few of them out:

• At the NFB Mediatheque, visit an exhibit that explores the world without sight.  Can you see in the dark? features interactive stations where children are challenged to use their other senses to discover all the ways one can “see” without eyes. Until March 18. Drop in, $5 per child, free for accompanying adults.  (NFB Mediatheque,150 John Street,Toronto).
• The Royal Ontario Museum has Mayan-themed activities running all week, as well as extended March Break hours. Make your own Mayan jewelry, visit with the bats, and say hi to the dinosaurs. See the ROM’s website for full details.  (100 Queen’s Park,Toronto).
• Always free, branches of the Toronto Public Library feature March Break activities all week long. Visit your local branch for details, or visit the Toronto Public Library’s website for more information.