So this weekend has been full of warm fuzzies.

I’m all the more convinced I know the best people.  Why?  Well, first I got news that I’d been nominated for a Canadian Family Readers’ Choice award!  A challenge was put out to attendees at a recent conference, and I decided to submit.  I feel appreciative of the opportunity to write, submit, and to have been chosen as one of the final group.

I wrote a piece called The Overflowing Life, and it’s just all kinds of great that the people around me are just showing me again how lucky I am in life.

(And yes, they are open right now, and yes, if you were feeling warm and fuzzy yourself you could go vote for me.  I won’t tell.)

Anyway, it’s been all kinds of amazing – from getting to know other writers better by reading their stories, from hearing warm words of congratulations from other writers and friends who I like and respect immensely and feeling the support of those who are going to vote for my writing.  Considering I usually write a little more under the radar, this is a fun change of pace!

So I just want to say thank you to all those who have voted, to those who are reading this and will take the moment to do so, for the kind words of those who read my story, the warmth of those who understood it – it all adds up to three days of some good heart time.

Yeah.  My overflowing life, indeed…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post on All Things Fadra.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

My son and I have a conversation every so often that never fails to amuse me.  It’s one that happens in almost every household in some form or another, but it’s different with every kid. 

It’s the ubiquitous “you know what I’m going to be when I grow up?” and boy, there is nothing cuter than a wee human declaring to all the world how they will spend their future.

It is fun for us as parents, we love imagining who they will be and where their adventures will take them.  And we love to hear what they have figured out about themselves and the world so far.  They are amazing creatures, truly they are. 

My six year old has already accumulated quite the collection of predicted professions:  race car driver, firefighter, pilot, police officer, astronaut, doctor, professional mover (what?  they get to drive big trucks) and Zamboni driver have all made his list.  I have enjoyed every evolution of our discussions, watching him learn more about the possibilities that are open to him. 

His current fascination has been going on for over a year now.  He wants to be a palaeontologist.  Dinosaurs became a big deal in our house years ago and apparently they have stuck around for the long haul, for as much as new toys have taken over his spare time…palaeontologist has long been his answer.

No matter what he chooses, our answers are the same, usually along the lines of “Awesome.  Can’t wait.  You figure out what you want to do, we’ll help you figure out what you need to learn to get there.  Lots of hard work, you can do anything.”  And that’s all I ever want him to hear.  I don’t want him to ever hear us laugh at one of his ideas, or to hear that we don’t think he can do something.  He will face challenges, obstacles and he will change his mind a dozen times.  But those are things he will face in time.  For now, he is six, with a wild imagination to envision his future.  Never would I rob him of that.

Recently, this entertaining little exchange took a slightly different turn.  My son brought it up just like always, I joked and teased and guessed silly things to make him giggle.  He laughed, then insisted I keep guessing.  I did, knowing I was getting warmer, closer to the right answer.  More giggles.  Then I went for the answer I knew would win the conversation.

“Palaeontologist!”  I crowed, reaching out to tickle him.  He giggled again, dimples on full display.  His eyes sparkled with the excitement of a child who finally has a secret his parents can’t guess.  He shook his head. 

I thought harder.  What could he have chosen now?  I wondered what he was thinking, what else I would be able to dream with him, how I’d be able to tell him “you figure out what you want to do, we’ll help you figure out what you need to learn to get there.  Lots of hard work, you can do anything.” 

I couldn’t get it.  “Tell me!” I insisted.  “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

His delight overflowed.

“Me, silly billy!  I’m going to be ME!” as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. 

And you know what?  It was.  I had more fun imagining that than anything else.  And there was only one thing to say.

“Awesome.  I can’t wait.”

If your home is like mine, with a little one who suddenly became a bundle of activity, it happens all day long.  You glance up, and your babe is playing quietly with her stuffed animals.  A few seconds later she’s nowhere to be seen.  Or, you watch your little guy flipping through board books, only to suddenly hear water spilling around the corner.  Water?  What water?  Where did he go?

Forget eyes in the back of our heads.  Moms these days need superpowers to keep up with our twirling little tornadoes.

Even better would be the ability to stay one step ahead…wouldn’t it be great if we had some psychic ability that allowed us to whirl and catch that babe mid-fall, whip around the corner in time to catch the magazines being pulled off the coffee table or know without a doubt that our darling babe is cheerfully stamping up the stairs alone right at this moment?

But there’s irony at work here.  Every scrap of smarts, independence and curiosity we hope our kids have when they are six, sixteen and beyond begins now.  As scary as it is to watch them toddle into harm’s way, reach for things we never imagined they’d want, and stumble along the way…it’s what life is all about.

Maybe we can’t be everywhere and see everything, and maybe we can’t have psychic powers.  Maybe we just need to have faith.  Faith that our babes will toddle, reach and stumble along just like all the others before them, and that we will be there when they need us most. 

And it’s enough.  It always has been, and it always will be.
Here are five little rules to help you fine-tune your own mom psychic powers:

 Rule #1:  You can never trust quiet.  Ever.  If things are quiet, you need to go looking.  Fast.

 Rule #2:  Remember that your wee ones learn to watch you just like you watch them.  If you stop paying attention, they’ll know it.

 Rule #3:  The sound of water dripping or splashing is ALWAYS bad news.

 Rule #4:  Pets and kids are twice the fun, and six times the trouble.  Count on it.

 Rule #5:  Learn to rely on methods of communication that let you stop, go and move with your baby! Think cordless phones, texting, messaging, etc. 

Now get moving and follow that babe!

This piece was originally published by The Yummy Mummy Club, a great website created by Erica Ehm.  Fun for yummy mummies (and delicious daddies)! 

http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/how-to-build-mom-psychic-powers

Certainly not in my house!  Red roses are lovely, romantic and definitely make an impression.  They’re gorgeous and they know it!

But any time my home needs to be brightened up with the beauty of roses, ten times over it will be orange roses glowing on my table.  And yes, I said “need”.  I don’t need roses for Valentine’s day, but that random Friday last month?  Absolutely.  When we are entertaining, sure.  And when I walk by a display and feel like we need a lift in the house, yes!

Any time you get the thought of roses in your head and can’t get it out is a day you or someone else needs to bring them home.  Yes, you.  I’m shameless that way, I don’t care who buys them, I just want them.  Who cares if it makes everyone happy?  And honestly, you might already think they are beautiful, but the day you get to try to teach a baby to lean over and smell them without grabbing handfuls of petals or tasting them, you’ll know a little bit of magic. 

What is your favourite shade?  What colour draws you in and makes you reach out and pull them to you, because you need to have them under your nose?

I love this list of the meaning of rose colours:

• Red:  Love, Respect
• Pink:  Grace
• Yellow:  Joy, Friendship
• White:  Innocence, Purity
• Orange:  Desire, Enthusiasm
• Lavender:  Enchantment
• Peach:  Gratitude, Admiration

All I know is, they make any day brighter and any room they are in more alive.   Wouldn’t you agree?

“The rose speaks of love silently, in a language known only to the heart.”  ~author unknown

February.

Saskatchewan.

It’s enough to strike fear in the heart of anyone who didn’t grow up with the kind of cold the prairies can throw at you this time of year.  Every spring we shake free of winter’s grasp, watch the green return to our gardens and forget just how cold and unforgiving it can be here.  Spring, summer, fall pass and suddenly as the days grow cold and winter looms we remember.  And we feel that same resigned feeling in the pit of our stomachs as though we are headed off to battle once again.

It’s no picnic, I’ll be honest.  And it’s certainly no place for one, as one might run the risk of losing an extremity should they attempt too much outside recreation.  But outside we do go, covered and peeping out from between our layers.  And some of us even enjoy it.  Ask all the children screeching as they slide down the toboggan hill and they’ll be the first to tell you how much fun winter is.

We make a lot of jokes about the weather in the winter.  It’s the source of much discussion and debate, comparison and recounting of years gone by.  You would think that perhaps any of us living in this climate would hibernate on some level or another, that it would be a time to hide away and bide our time until spring.  And yes, in some ways this is so.  We stay inside more, we put off projects that require warmer temperatures.

Last week the temperature with wind chill was a skin-burning and mind-numbing 43 degrees below zero one morning.  The kind of cold that makes cars creak like tanks even when removed from garages like the spoiled pets they are.  The kind of cold that makes you wonder if you will be able to breathe as you walk through it.  There’s no room for error in cold like that…we bundle our children, send extra mittens and warm clothes and hustle them from house to vehicle and back.  It’s a cold that we take seriously.

But the next day, the sun poured into our home so brightly today that to glance at the window was nearly blinding.  Walking into a kitchen so filled with light that the wood literally glows is both welcoming and comforting.  We threw open curtains, blinds, and gazed at the light coming off the snow.  Blue sky so pure it could be from a watercolour painting.  This is where we balance out.  This is where we find what it takes to face the bitter days.  It is in the sparkle of each facet of each snowflake reflecting the light.  It is in the beauty of a garden so covered with snow that landmarks are hidden and everything seems a secret.  And as much as I love my garden, a respite from the constancy that it requires is necessary in order for me to love it again come spring.

It turns out that when it comes to weather, just as it is with everything else in our lives, it’s all about the silver linings.  Looking for the  things that bring joy or contentment to our lives.  Realizing that, just like everything in the garden, our bodies and spirits also crave dormancy.  I for one would never give up winter cooking and all the things we enjoy when the mercury dips down.  And I’m on very good terms with our fireplaces, fuzzy blankets and a coffee cup to wrap my hands around mid-afternoon.

It’s funny.  All in all, it turns out that in winter, the prairies are a pretty nice place to be after all.

Last fall our family said goodbye to a very beloved pet.

A dog we had gotten as a puppy fifteen years ago finally became too old, too lame, too tired to go on.  For any of you who don’t have pets, you probably will want to skip this post.  If you haven’t shared your home with a pet for an extended time, it will be difficult for me to tell you how much our world revolved around her, and how different the house is without her.  Pangs of sentiment still hit me from time to time and I’ve had a few months to get used to it.

To fully understand how empty our house is, you’d have to also know that this wasn’t our only dog.  She was the second dog we added to our family so many years ago.  We also used to have a giant old soft Siberian husky, and the two of them became the source of much family lore and legend.  The German Shepherd mix who didn’t trust anyone else, but was a marshmallow with us.  The Siberian husky who in his lifetime ate an ant trap, a film canister, several toothbrushes, at least a bushel of apples rotting in the September sun, and almost a dozen unbaked buns rising on a kitchen counter.  The Houdini dog who could slip out of any collar, yet wouldn’t leave the yard when her big brother ran away yet again.  The husky who would curl up in a snowbank and fall asleep, tail covering a cold nose.

Between these two dogs, our house was full of noise, chaos, dog hair and more than occasional frustration.  We managed our schedules around being home for them, feeding them, rarely travelled.  And yet, somehow, it just felt like our life.  We just got used to it.  We didn’t know any other way.

Letting go of this dog was harder than it was with our first.  We were heartbroken the time we had to call a vet and say goodbye to our beloved husky, but it came upon us so quickly that we didn’t have any choice.  Funny how brave we can be when we are out of options.  But this time was different.  This time we had to make the decision, choose when she’d had enough.  We had to measure her quality of life and weigh how tired she seemed against our guilt.

And this time we had a nearly six year old boy rather than a three month old baby.  He is a sensitive, sweet boy who has a tendency to be deeply affected by anything emotional.   He cares, a lot, about pretty much everything.  How would we tell him?  How would we manage it?  How to make it easy on him?

It turns out that, like everything else, worrying about it and dreading it took us over.  And in truth, it became bigger than the reality.  We talked in circles around it, talked to our son about it until even we were tired of the topic.  We warned him as best we could that the day was probably coming very soon.  We encouraged him to talk about it, ask questions, say goodbye when he left for school each day.  The only thing we glossed over was that we did actually know exactly when, figuring of everything he was having to understand and process, that would be the part that would be too much.  We gently reminded him that perhaps we would become a family that could go away for a weekend, or longer, without having to fuss over pet care.

The time came and went.  We dropped as many hints as we could, made the appointment and faced it.  And like everything else, our dread was matched only by our relief when it was over.  It turns out that in the end we were brave enough.  And it was okay, as was our son.

Now we have the freedom we wanted so badly for so long.

Sigh.  Freedom sure makes for a quiet house.

When I was young, I was fairly confident that we had the most normal family ever.  Translation?  I thought we were average.  Oh, we had our fun, owned a family cabin, spent time together…but still, it wasn’t anything that seemed outrageous to me. 

But after I had moved out and gotten married, my parents divorced.  It wasn’t a surprise by then, and in fact was a long time coming once it actually happened.  Change, and more change.  We each had to figure out how things all fit together afterwards, but it’s the kind of thing you just do. 

Fast forward a few more years.  My dad remarried, and now not only does he have a new wife to share his life with, I have three stepsisters.  And while I never expected it, I realized early on how lucky I was.  Lucky, you ask?  How could I call it lucky to have so much change to deal with?  Well, you can either focus on the obstacles in life or you can look for the blessings.  I choose the latter. 

As my sister and I welcomed my dad’s new wife to the family at their wedding, I read the following quote from Oprah Winfrey:

“I’ve always known that life is sweeter when you share it.  I now realize it gets even sweeter when you expand the circle.”

And to me, it’s just that simple.  Instead of getting caught up in the labels and definitions, I just think…family.  I didn’t lose anything, in truth, I gained.  That day, I gained three sisters.  No, we haven’t known each other a lifetime, but if you think about it, I just more than tripled the amount of chances for happiness in my family.  Not only do I get to see my dad happy and living a full life again, I have the chance to connect and share with three new people.  And if you really want to get crazy, do this math:  that’s three more sisters who may get married or settle down with someone special and have kids.  More family, and more happiness.

Divorce is pretty common these days.  I guess in our own way, we’re still pretty average.  Normal.  Not outrageous at all.  But as I smile at my sisters’ children, or hear news of my youngest sister’s engagement, all I can say is…this is my circle.  And I love watching it expand.

This piece was originally published by The Yummy Mummy Club, a great website created by Erica Ehm.  Fun for yummy mummies (and delicious daddies)! 

http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/expanding_the_family_circle_jen_taylor

It’s funny how smart we can be sometimes.  I actually saw this coming, and just this week looked at some magazines on my kitchen table and thought…hmm.

What was I looking at?  Well, we have a six year old.  A six year old who has become a very enthusiastic reader this year, and reads pretty much everything he can get his hands on.  Now, I’d never have anything inappropriate within reach, but I had happened to pick up a few magazines, mostly psychology, health and wellness type titles. 

But a sideways glance at the cover features gave me pause.  Two of the three magazines had the word sex written on the front cover.  Now, at six, we haven’t exactly had any birds and bees conversations with our son…we teach him the proper names for body parts and that kind of thing but haven’t uttered the “S” word yet.  I wondered how long the magazines could sit there before he would be reading the covers just out of curiosity.  Mama cringe time. 

Turns out, about fifteen minutes.  While I prepared his breakfast, he wandered over to the table and flipped open a cover.  I paused a little and thought, hmm, wonder what he’s going to see.  I decided that seeing as I hadn’t read them, I should probably not assume that whatever was inside would be okay for him to see.  And one was a Canadian men’s magazine I had bought for an actor interview and I knew there were a couple of things that I’d rather he not lay eyes on.  I casually distracted him with something else, and once he’d moved on, relocated the magazines to the bookshelf so they wouldn’t be under his nose.  Great.  Problem solved.  I felt pretty smart.

You see, I wasn’t sure I had an answer for the question “Mommy, what does S-E-X spell?”  Because we haven’t really had the conversation about how and when we’re broaching that topic.  And until we’re ready to, I’m not sure what I want to answer if he asks now. 

So there we have it.  I feel like I did a good, responsible thing.  Hubs and I can discuss it before he ever sees the word, decide what we will tell him at each step of the way.  Crisis averted!  He never saw the word “sex!”  I was fast enough.  I was pretty proud of myself for being so aware. 

This morning we came down to the basement to snuggle up and watch a movie while the baby slept.  As I made him a cozy spot on the couch, he chose a DVD and went to put it in the machine. 

Did I mention I’m not that bright at 6:30 a.m.? 

“What movie is THIS, Mommy?”

Damn.

“Sex and the City?  Sex and the City 2?  What movie is this?  Why does it have a 2?  What’s it about?”

I bite my lip.

“It’s…here, I’ll take that….just a movie about someone who writes something for a newspaper by that name.  I’ll just…here, honey, give me the disc…wow, honey, what movie did you pick to watch!???!”

Sigh.  Can’t win ‘em all.  Wonder how long I have before he asks?

The following was written last year, something I wrote in a giant vent of frustration and then never posted.  It began as a comment on someone else’s blog post but swiftly became far too long to leave as a comment, so I just wrote it out and tucked it away.  Obviously, it was a point of contention at the time and a struggle I was finally putting to rest.  If you read the article I wrote recently for the Yummy Mummy Club called “Spend Time and Money Wisely“, this post will give you a bit of an idea as to why the secret I share there is so important.  Below is the nitty gritty story behind it all…

~ a peek inside my head, Summer 2010 ~

I wish I could turn off the thousand voices in my head of “what do I need to pick up for the kids, and where is that form for camp, and I need to make that doc appt for the baby, and we’re almost out of milk, and “yes, I know he has holes in all his stupid socks, I bought 12 the last time you complained but I didn’t have time to clean out the drawer so just keep looking!”  Yeah.  It’s a chattering, clamoring circus in there.

We recently moved and I took on the whole organization of a move, both kids including a newly walking/running babe, the biz we currently owned plus setting up our new life and summer here.  I had no childcare or help and lasted about 3 months.  I was losing my mind.

So I’ve stopped.  I was pushing away my son so I could work while the baby napped, buying dvds, constantly trying to get him out of my office so I could work.  And it was hurting us both.  With no siblings to play with, he was bored, lonely and felt the rejection.  I know he did and it broke my heart because I adore him.

I now have a part time sitter to come play with him while I work or run errands in the afternoon.  Yes, it costs money, but I can take on way more work and keep my sanity.  And I’m home, still in and out of their days, the babe is asleep part of the time so she doesn’t miss me…it’s saving my life.  And my son is playing, building forts, blowing bubbles, digging in the garden…no more dvds.  I could cry sometimes to hear him playing and having so much fun.  He’s so excited to have his sitter come play with him, is practically jumping up and down by the time she arrives so they can head to the basement and play.

And now?  I’m doing it again.  I’m taking on more work…and letting more go.  We’re hiring a neighbourhood kid to mow the lawns.  It’s not expensive and will free up time for us as a family.  And I just hired someone to come do some cleaning once a week…not all of it, but the stuff I can’t get to with a babe attached to my leg. 

I’m trying to see our household as a business so I don’t have a breakdown trying to be all, do all, control all.  You have to spend money to make money in business…I’m trying to do the same here.  Because I tried carrying it all, and I didn’t like who I was becoming.  Admitting THAT is insanely hard, I want to do 100 things and do them well…but parenting isn’t a checklist, it’s not a task to be completed.  It’s life.  And it is all day, 24/7 and it’s not going away.  So I’m getting some help.  Later I may not need it.  But I know my family needs it right now.

I look forward to being who I know I am and can be when I am not spreading myself so thinly.  And I love loving my kids without the pressure of knowing I never have the time to do it right. 

~  ~  ~

“Sometimes I have more time than money… sometimes I have more money than time.”

This little saying has saved my sanity on more than one occasion.  A busy family schedule with plenty of work, two young kids, and businesses to run doesn’t exactly lend itself to doing everything ourselves, every time.  And while I absolutely believe in DIY and elbow grease, let’s face it.  There are only so many hours in a day!

So what does this mean to us?  It means that we carefully pick and choose where we spend our money, but when the occasion arises, we are more than willing to throw a little money at a problem!  And we are fortunate enough to be comfortable enough to do so.  It takes work to make sure you are living within your means, but once you do so, it can offer freedom that you just don’t have when you are spending more than you make.  Once you get to a point that you have room in your budget, you can make decisions that help make room for your happiness.

Here’s how it works.  Love gardening?  Landscaping service too pricey?  Roll up your sleeves, get dirty and enjoy the fruits of your labour all summer long.  You, my dear, have more time than money in this instance.  But don’t you fret, before you know it, you’re looking at your bathrooms and floors and thinking, dear God, are they dirty again?  Oh yes, they are, and lucky you, this time you have more money than time.  Find yourself someone reliable to come take it off your hands.  Oh, yes, you can.  There’s nothing in any definition of wife, mummy or any other role you fill that says you need to clean toilets if you don’t want to.

When you start taking stock like this, it becomes very easy to handle anything and everything that comes up in your path.  Your time is valuable, and you have a lot of great things in your life to spend it on.  Family, friends, fulfilling work and yes, even some rest.  So, find work that fills you up, manage the dollars that come in… and use them to create the life you want. 

Do what you love.  Yes, even the DIY stuff.  But don’t be afraid to let any of it go to make room for living. 

This piece was originally published by The Yummy Mummy Club, a great website created by Erica Ehm.  Fun for yummy mummies (and delicious daddies)! 

 http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/how_to_spend_money_and_time_wisely

January is a chilly month not often included in anyone’s list of favourites.  In fact, it probably earns its fair share of bad press…when you are trudging through snow and ice, freezing every time you leave the house, you might be forgiven for grouchily perusing travel websites as you sniffle through yet another winter cold.

But it could be easy to miss what this time of year holds for those hardy enough to withstand the weather.  Everywhere you look, January is a time to reflect on goals, aspirations, plans.  We all do it, whether we pretend to make resolutions or not.  Even some of those who swear they don’t believe in resolutions do so because they have spent time thinking about it.

To me, January holds a special place…a calm after the storm that is the holidays with young children, a break from all the rushing around from back to school, children’s birthdays, year end.  It is a time to catch our collective breath, purge our homes of the decorations we adored so much early in December but are tired of looking at by January.  The ritual of undecorating is not without its rewards, in our house it becomes a clearing out that too often isn’t done with other belongings.  Box up ten cartons of decorations from your home and tell me you aren’t breathing more easily.  This is what January brings.

It brings a return to order, to routine, back to school for students and back to things running as they should.  The cold weather offers plenty of time to stay inside and reflect on life.  So yes, absolutely, it is a perfect time, before the bleakness of February sets in, to enjoy our cozy homes, keep our fires going and think about how our lives are going.  Without the distraction of outdoor projects that spring brings or the rush and bustle of back to school season, it may well be our quietest time of year.

I was sick for two weeks at the beginning of this month, and am still not quite over it.  And as a result, I have surprised myself with how disappointed I am to have missed out on most of January.  Oh, I’ve kept up with this and that and actually dealt with a laundry list of annoying little tasks and to do items that kept getting bumped off my list in December.  So I suppose in my own way I’ve still found a way to feel as though I am getting a fresh start.

But as I get back to health, you can bet that I will be stealing moments for reflection everywhere I can in the week that remains in January.  And as I sit and look at the snow that has buried our gardens, our parks and streets, I can’t help but feel that we have a special kind of renewal around here.  In the cold climates, one quite literally gets an opportunity to rise, not from the ashes like the legendary phoenix, but from the snow that surrounds us.  

Spring may be when I crave the outdoors and feel a lightness in my step.  September may cry out for freshly sharpened pencils and new schedules.  But if you have ever wanted time to reflect, renew, measure and dream your life, my friends, the time is now.

As a parent, one of the things I want to teach my kids is how easy it is to give to others.  But it can feel overwhelming.  There are hundreds of ways we could give back…in our communities, in the world beyond.  But the question looms:  how far can one donation really go? 

We need to realize that when someone lacks the hope or resources to change their fortune… one donation can make all the difference.  Of course it can. 

Realizing that, we need to give where we think our gift will do the most good.  We can see how much is needed today, and are heartbroken at the thought of children going hungry.  Yet we can also see a need to build for tomorrow, to do something that will last beyond today.

So why not do both?  Half of what you can give can go to a local food bank or shelter to put food in people’s bellies and a roof over their head today.  The other half can go to something that will continue to give, tomorrow and into the future.  If you’ve ever wondered if one donation is enough, or need inspiration, keep reading…  

Consider www.heifer.org for agricultural gifts that keep on giving, or www.finca.org to learn about village banking and how far even a small donation can go.

What is www.heifer.org?  They take one gift and use it to create much more.  The gift is given along with training, support and a plan:  to create more and share with others. Imagine the power it would give someone who didn’t have enough to suddenly be in a position to help others.  Go visit the www.finca.org website and see the difference a small donation can make to a woman who needs just $50 as a loan to start her own business.  Learn how these small business loans have a repayment rate of over 97%, in some of the poorest communities in the world.  Impressed yet?

As a parent, this splitting of priorities comes naturally.  It feels like the same approach we take as we raise our children.  There are immediate needs we must meet, but investments in tomorrow that are just as important.  When we care for our children today, we are doing the right thing.  However, it is what we are willing to invest in their futures that will shape their tomorrows.

This piece was originally published by The Yummy Mummy Club, a great website created by Erica Ehm.  Fun for yummy mummies (and delicious daddies)!   

http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/how_to_give_back_for_tomorrow

It’s that time of year again, too quickly.  If anyone knows where this year went, would you let us know please?  I feel like we are still settling in from our move, but the calendar whispers “nearly ten months.”  (Yes, I whisper back “stop talking to me”.  Anyway… )  

It has become our story, moving and moving on.  And so it seems fitting to start the story of 2010 with our move back to city in which we were married in late February.  A wild December 2009 led to planning and plotting, and before anyone could blink, we had sold our house in Winnipeg and found a new one here.  It fit everything we really needed, and so it seems we have found our new home.

And what is a house for than to fill it up with kids, toys, and all the busy goings-on that a family gets up to?  So that’s just what we did.  We let kids and stuff fill up the corners, let the sun shine in through wide open windows and breathed in the familiarity of Saskatoon.

The kids are awesome.  I can’t think of any other way to say it.  Yes, they keep us on our toes.  Yes, there are days we feel like we have answered “why?” ten times or asked a question ourselves a dozen more.  But…they blow our minds.  Being a parent is enormously challenging, yet every day they pay it back in love and wonder ten times over.

The boy is six and in grade one.  Tall and blonde and blue-eyed as ever, he has a pack of boys he plays with but one girl who is his best friend.  Sometimes the sweetest things don’t change.  Sensitive, strong, stormy, collapsing in giggles – that’s our boy.  He is still happy in French Immersion, and seems to grow a little taller every day.  He is learning so much, has suddenly embraced reading anything he can get his hands on and wants to know everything about everything, and more.  “Can you tell me more about…?” is often heard.  Some days I still see the toddler he was, other days I can see the lean and lanky teen he will become.   

And the babe just glows.  Sweet-natured, silly, loving – she is a blessing to know and makes us all better people.  Just turned two, I like to joke that it’s a good thing she mostly wants to do what we want her to – because otherwise, I don’t know what we’d do with her.  Biddable in most moments, apologetic over any mistake…there still is no mistaking the twinkle in her eye as she gets caught jumping on the living room couch.  As happy with a toy truck as she is with her babies, she finds happiness in just about anything.  And she doesn’t hesitate to talk about it all the live long day.  She puzzled over her brother’s name for a time until I called down to the “boys” a few times…now she cheerfully calls him “Boy”, and dimples if we try to correct her.  She waves to anyone that smiles at her, offers high fives and sunny smiles to cashiers and people who approach her and has much love for the world around her.  

Hubs has been working with another environmental company since February, and any spare time not spent settling into our new home or chasing kids has been going into our own business, Chem Smart Resources.  We’ve changed directions with the company with our move from Winnipeg, and are putting our focus more into hub’s experience in training in his industry than anything else.  We just had a great media company (www.3fishmedia.ca) redo our website, you can see it for yourself at www.chemsmart.ca.  Hubs was also just named vice chair of a certification approvals board in his industry and will act in that role for the next three years.

And as for me?  I feel very fortunate to have formed the friendships and network I did in 2009, and this year, out of these connections grew a very fulfilling work life.  I have been writing, and in June I started working on contract for EverythingMom Media as the Community Manager for www.everythingmom.com.  So now I get to write, connect, and promote them in social media while also writing freelance in whatever extra time I have.  I was also lucky enough to attend social media/blogging conferences in New York City and Toronto this year.  Links to what I do are here:  www.mochacreativeworks.com.

This year has gone so fast we can’t even imagine what 2011 might hold. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to slow down a little to enjoy everything we already have.  That would be enough.

All the best from our house to yours  – may the coming year hold good company, good fortune and good times for you all.

~   a place is held for you, at our table, before our fire, in our hearts   ~

Today my daughter turns two years old.  Two!  How could two years have gone by us already?  Presents opened, pink icing on her chin, the evidence has been all around for two days.

This morning she is running around in a dress worn over ripped, faded jeans.  She may only be two, but forming her personality and identity at a breakneck pace.  I feel happy when I see her spin in a dress, then get down on her hands and knees to play blocks with her older brother.  I love that she likes me to put a tiny French twist in the back of her hair, yet refuses to let go of a red monster truck that for all intents and purposes has become hers by rights of toddler possession.  Nine-tenths of the law and all that.

She is sweet, rocking her babies to sleep, tucking them under blankets and tenderly patting their heads.  Every stuffed animal in her collection has had its moment in the warm sunlight of her mama-loving.  She is fearless, standing on chairs to reach high shelves, climbing stairs without permission and jumping on the leather couch.  She gives the sweetest hugs, yet digs in her heels with a little jaw set just so.  She sweetly questions every rule, every limit and dimples as she does whatever she wants – lucky for us she mostly wants what we do.  But she is also quick to soothe anyone around her with tender apologies and kisses no matter who is at fault for the latest upset or accident. “Wowwy, Mummy.  Wowwy.”

I have a feeling she will be a force to be reckoned with, but I also see the sweetness of sugar in her smile.  She talks a mile a minute, learning new words and phrases every week.  Her words come quickly, and anything she doesn’t know matters not a whit when she runs and brings her shoes insisting “Mommy!  Car go bye bye NOW!  Baby, Mommy.  Car go!”  Okay, baby, we hear you!

She is so different from her brother, yet when we look at her we can’t help but see the toddler he once was.  But he was quieter, slower to warm up to strangers and there is no mistaking that this little one is a small but formidable social butterfly.  She will wave and greet anyone, high five strangers in the mall and play with any guest who wants to spend time with her.  It’s amazing to see how big her love is for the people in her world.  Why do I always feel like we could learn so much from our wee ones about how to love?  She doesn’t worry, fuss or measure.  She doesn’t withold, manipulate or dole out her love in small increments.  She just…loves.  Heart and arms open.  We should all be so generous.

We are lucky indeed to share our lives with such warmth and spirit.  And so proud of the little girl she is becoming.

Our wonderful babe.  Happy second birthday, Miss B.

I love fall.

Fall means comfort food, warmth from fireplaces brought back into use and a season of goodwill just around the corner.  Fall meant time to enjoy all nature had to offer us in swaths of colour and bounty from gardens.  It meant crisp mornings and sunny afternoons gazing at still-green lawns covered in golden leaves.

Fresh pots of coffee brewed.  Steam would escape from a large pot on the stove, while soup bubbled inside.  My farmers’ market treasures sprawled across the counter, adding their colour and aromas to a kitchen badly in need of refreshing.  Oh, I don’t mean style refreshing.  No, these maple cabinets and dark hardwood floors, while not new, are warm and welcoming.  Red and orange accents make me happy, and the result is a kitchen that looks just as it should…cozy, warm and appetizing.  But something had been lacking, and I didn’t realize until lately how much it had affected me.

My kitchen needed to feel like it used to, as though it is the centre of everything we do and the source of all good things consumed in our house.  I am as happy as the next person for a meal or cup of coffee that someone else has prepared, but there is no replacement for a kitchen that is busy and turning out good food on a regular basis.  Happiness at home for me includes spending time in a kitchen where there is plenty of food to eat, tempting smells from all corners and a fridge and freezer ready to provide what we need.  It makes me crazy to have a half empty fridge, and to order something less than healthy for dinner.  It may feed our bellies, but leaves our souls empty of warmth. 

No, give me a meal we have cooked ourselves every time, no matter how simple.  Hot coffee, ready to share.  Fresh fruits and vegetables to make healthy meals and snacks for my kids. 

Why is my soul connected so closely to my kitchen?  I don’t bake much, and in truth came to cooking almost reluctantly.  But that was over a decade ago, and somehow over time I have developed affection for the kitchen.  It’s not that I’m preparing blue-ribbon worthy meals with six courses and a homemade dessert for regular dinner guests, but I do feed my family from this kitchen.  And any meal I make for my kids especially represents far more than the sum of its ingredients.

I love good food.  I love seeing and smelling fresh tomatoes.  I love fruit ripening on my Italian glass platter, all orange and red and green.  But I think what I love most of all is the feeling that I have had time to do it all.  I have had time to shop for fresh produce, carefully selected.  Time to stop and make a pot of coffee before returning to whatever it is that is keeping me running.  Time to plan, prepare and cook a proper dinner. 

These are very basic things.  But when life gets really busy, sometimes it can feel as though I’ve lost my groove.  I forget to thaw meat for dinner.  We run out of coffee beans, or I don’t have anything just right for my son’s lunch.  Perhaps we are running low on milk, and I’m chastising myself for not picking it up when I was out the day before.  If a kitchen is full of guilt, reminders and wasted food, I feel as though I’m losing my grip on everything.  It can make me feel as though we just aren’t functioning.  It’s not a good feeling.

Slowly, but surely, I am getting my kitchen mojo back.  I’m stopping for groceries often enough that we have plenty of good fresh food available.  I went to the farmers’ market several times this fall and have made sodium-free vegetable stock from scratch to freeze.  I made time to go out and harvest the herbs from the garden.  They cover my dining room table, drying on trays to carry us through winter.  And I am trying to ensure we are cooking dinners regularly. 

Fall brought me back my kitchen.  And in doing so, it brought back the feeling that I have things under control and I have enough time for what I want to do.

If this is what fall and winter are bringing me, then I’m ready to face them.  Are you?

My boy. Six years old and the sun still shines on him a little brighter than anywhere else.

Kissing my son goodnight on his birthday is always bittersweet. I love him so much and am so proud of the tall, handsome creature in front of me. But he was my first, and the taller he grows the harder it is for my memory to reach back to his sweet baby days.

He reads so well. Last year, I could feel that it hadn’t clicked for him and wondered how to help, how to help him make the connections. I wondered how the magic would come to him, but suddenly it did and it’s breathtaking. If I wish anything for him, it is the ability to read and write and learn without struggle. I want the whole world to come easily to him. If only I could make that happen by wishing.

I watch him grow taller and stronger as the months go by. He’s toughened up too, yet still has feelings easily hurt by schoolyard or life injustices. This boy can take a spill on the sidewalk or across the basement floor and bite back any tears, but have trouble controlling emotions over harsh words or situations he doesn’t understand.

Ah, six. What an age. The boys are getting tougher, how to keep up and still maintain that little boy sweetness? Some boys manage it, some lose it altogether. I watch my son befriend both girls and boys, create teams at school that include them all and hope he doesn’t lose that gentle way. His best friend is a girl, yet he also has a pack of boys he runs with. I hope he keeps them both as he gets older.

I am so amazed to have a six year old, and even more amazed to have one with so much wonder to share with me. I love his laughter, his heart and the twinkle in his eye.

I love watching joy on his face. May this year bring nothing else to him.

Happy birthday, golden boy.

“The true meaning of life

is to plant trees,

under whose shade you do not expect to sit.”

~Nelson Henderson

I am lucky to live in a community where there is an abundance of nature to balance out the rest of the city.  This city makes its home on both sides of a meandering riverbank, and its residents are the better for it.  Trees are everywhere, and while there are new areas with limited trees or cookie cutter plantings, older neighbourhoods with their rampant overgrowth and variety abound.

I live in such a neighbourhood.  Not too old, not too young, just the perfect mix of not-quite and almost and this is who we really are.  It’s refreshing.  Every yard has trees, is overwhelmed with them, in fact, and come fall it’s a gorgeous display of colour.

This time of year is my favourite.  I am not particularly fond of winter, and hate being cold.  And the winters here are fierce.  But even with winter just weeks away, I can’t help but love the gold, orange and red canvas that is our backdrop these days.

Who is not improved by a walk under a golden canopy, blue sky peeking through, fallen leaves crunching underfoot?  Whose day is not lifted by seeing children shuffling through the collected leaves on the sidewalk?  And who doesn’t enjoy the change back to hot coffee and tea, after a summer of pouring these favourites over ice?

Spring may be new growth and opportunity.  But fall and the changing trees are a comfort unchallenged.

Today, I tried hard to take a shortcut to my destination.  Today, I tried to resist the lure of the trees.  Then, as always, I turned towards the riverbank, towards the long, meandering road that follows along the blue, with green grass and an explosion of gold leaves on display.  And you know what?  I arrived in plenty of time, and can’t get the smile off my face.

My daughter likes to make bracelets out of anything shaped like a ring.  If it can be slid onto her wrist to dangle and spin, it becomes a “pretty”. 

At twenty months old, this seems to be her first recognition of beauty.  The first thing she has ever used to adorn herself, to show off to us as if to say, “Don’t I look pretty?”  Of course she does.  She has bright eyes, a smile full of dimples and skin that glows.  She doesn’t need any bracelet, fashioned or not, to make her look beautiful.  She just is.

Looking at her, I wonder how we ever decided makeup was something we needed to wear to accentuate our looks.  When we look at our young daughters, we know they are beautiful.  We don’t look at them and think “Wow, she would be beautiful if we could just bring out those eyes a little.”  So what age is it then that we suddenly look at ourselves in the mirror and think “if I could just…”?

It is too early to tell if she will be a tomboy, or if I will be begged for highlights, tanning and makeup.  Too early to tell if we will battle over trends, styles, the latest “must-haves” for hair and makeup.  I was never a very “girly” girl growing up, but I’ve made my peace whatever life and my daughter throw my way.  I will teach her what she wants to know, but lessons in beauty aren’t limited to lip gloss and blush.

I will teach her to follow clothing trends as long as she walks confidently enough that she wears the clothes and not the other way around.

I will teach her how to style her hair, as long as she realizes how beautiful it is the way nature made it.

I will teach her to curl her lashes, but also to only bat them at boys who will look past them to see the girl behind the pretty face.

I will teach her about eye shadow, while doing my best to help her avoid a life that creates the shadows around her eyes that do not wash away.

Because what I hope most to teach her about beauty is that it is the warmth of her smile, the laughter in her eyes and the kindness in her words that is where true beauty lies.

This piece was originally published by The Yummy Mummy Club, a great website created by Erica Ehm.  Fun for yummy mummies (and delicious daddies)!   

http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/lessons_in_beauty_jen_taylor

Evening arrives.  My husband and five year old son are walking hand in hand up the stairs.

“Tell me a story about Gormagon.” my boy asks.  There is the barest of pauses.

“Well, when we last talked about Gormagon, he had just won the battle against the Chinese emperor, right?”

“Right.”

And off to bed they go, already lost in the story; my husband, the storyteller, and my five year old.  That’s what you get when you marry a chemist with a minor in classics and Greek mythology.  His day to day job might keep him grounded in science and fact, rules and regulations – but his parenting is far from down-to-earth, especially at story time.

During most of our waking hours, I am the one making the rules, reining in the craziness and generally trying to make sure they aren’t all acting like a bunch of cute, yet wild monkeys.  Today my husband and I were joking that I do a lot for him and I teased him, saying, “Yep, I love being a mother of three!”

We have two children.

In truth, my husband is a great father.  He is loving and affectionate with both kids, and you’ve never seen a prouder dad.  Big picture?  He’s awesome with them.  However, when it comes to the details, I beg, plead and nag for consistency.  An old expression says the devil is in the details; my devil likes to break the rules and supply the sugar.

But there is one area where my type A personality is happy to let go and my husband hits it out of the park.  It’s bedtime.  More specifically, story time.  Since the birth of our daughter, my husband has been in charge of our son’s bedtime and it can be very entertaining to listen in.

Knights in shining armour, kings, dragons and blue whales are all potential guests once nightfall approaches.  Any given night we could have valiant swordplay, ravenous dinosaurs, Spiderman spinning webs or Elmer chasing Bugs out of the vegetable garden.

All day long we (mostly good-naturedly) battle for control and I will push for things to stay grounded when it comes to our kids.   But at bedtime, if this is where he takes them, I hope he keeps his head firmly in the clouds.

“Courage is a wind chime in a storm.  It is loud and singing about a safer tomorrow.”

                                  ~ a favourite quote inspired by Maya Angelou

A couple of weeks ago some friends of mine celebrated an anniversary. 

Five years since her son fell ill, then immediately afterward was diagnosed with Acute Lymphasetic Leukemia.  I remember the emails asking for everyone she knew to keep them in thoughts and prayers that he would keep his strength up through the weekend, that his survival depended on it.  I read those emails, and my heart fell to the floor.  I remember how hard I hugged my nine month old baby, my firstborn.   Her son had just turned two.

The road they faced was long, bleak and hard.  And there were no shortcuts, no easy meanders off the hard trail.  She was a single mom.  Her son, very ill.  And as fate would have it, she had been accepted to attend university that coming fall, having decided it was time to pursue an engineering degree.  I thought, I’m sure we all thought…why them?  Why now?  How is this possible?  But she told me that the reason she had wanted to go to school was so that she could provide a better life for her son.  And that need still existed, so whether she was at work or at school, in some way they would be separated during the day.  She decided to start her degree because when her son got better she would still want that better life for him.

Imagine.  Being dealt such enormous news, not being sure what the outcome would be, yet two months later buying books and taking on the challenge of a degree program because you were strong or stubborn enough to imagine a future without the sickness, without the chemo.  Having the guts to imagine that you could be strong in all directions, throwing off cautions and flipping a giant bird to fate. 

Fast forward through the years of chemo, of hospital visits, of exams and classes and grandmas helping out with childcare.  Fast forward through the struggle, the sleepless nights.  Fast forward through scholarships, through good grades.  Through a boy growing stronger, through milestones passed and a disease held at bay.  Fast forward through the meeting of someone who would become her other half, who would become and help create their family.  Through a boy growing up, getting smarter and stronger and more handsome by the year.  Skip past more good grades, another scholarship, an engagement. 

Two weeks ago, they celebrated five years gone by since the day he was diagnosed.  He is officially in remission, and is busy enjoying all the things other kids take for granted.  She has a year of school left, is engaged to be married, and the three of them together are a great, happy family living in a house they bought last year.  A better life.  A safer tomorrow.  It’s already here…and it will only get better. 

So this is just to recognize the occasion, to say to my friend – I noticed.  I saw you take fate and future in your own two hands and decide you would be stronger.  I have been amazed, and continue to be amazed, at the courage and strength you show.  And that whenever I read that quote about wind chimes, I always think of you and your son.

I’ll leave you all with the quote she has posted on her Facebook page:

“If children have the ability to ignore all odds and percentages, then maybe we can all learn from them… We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up, or fight like hell.”

                                  ~ Lance Armstrong