Monthly Archives: August 2008


The boys have left for a camping trip with their Dad for the week and I’m missing them. Next week is my turn to have their undivided attention and I’m looking forward to being “just a mom”.

Justin starts school in September and I’m weepy about this. When Korey started I was so proud, I cried. With Justin, I’m crying because my babies are growing up and no matter how much time you spend, how well you document it, or how together you think you have it, the speed at which children grow is crazy lightening fast and completely out of your control.

My kisses are always followed by, “Lipstick?”

My hugs are interrupted by, “that’s enough Mom.”

My songs are cut short with, “not that one.”

But there’s still lots of “I love yous” and “I have to poop. Call you when I’m done.” So I’m grateful.

The other night Justin was crying over a dog his Dad’s landlord had to put down. Joe was Justin’s favourite dog…next to Mandy of course. He asked me what heaven was like. I told him I didn’t know. Korey interjected, “we are all going to die someday.” I said that is true, but I hope we all die of old age. Justin went balistic, “You’re not supposed to hope we die, we’re your kids.” He then turned over and asked if when he did die and came back he could have the same parents. I let the discussion end and didn’t get into the whole reincaration explanation or how we choose our parents and our children. I was sweetened that he would still choose me for his Mom. 

I must be more careful with my words. They are at a very literal age. I remember being five and paralysed with fear of dieing or not having my parents. My nightime prays went something like:

Please God, keep us all safe. Don’t let anything happen to any of us or our possessions. Please don’t let any of us have meningitus, leukemia, any kind of cancer, AIDS (added in the 80s) or any other disease. Please let us all live for a long, long, long, long, long, long time and please God, let us all die of old age. 

If I didn’t say this every night, I thought I wouldn’t wake up or something bad would happen. The security of my family rested squarely on my nightly petition.

Now I send devine wisdom to my children when we are apart and see them in white protective light. But every now and then I sneek in a petition, just in case.


Prince Charming

What exactly am I waiting for? I was brought up in an environment where Dad earned the money and Mom ran the house, until of course Dad got home and then Dad ran Mom. Sounds dreadful to me but that was the nuclear family.

So I’m independent. I take care of myself and I do what I want. Of course, I’m plagued by fear of success and still hear my past whispering, “don’t do that, it will never work.” The trouble is I’m just a bit too lazy to fight it. Or maybe I haven’t found something worth fighting for. I play with my dreams, and simply dipping my toes in the water has been, until this point, ultimately satisfying. Now the wet piggies are a screaming reminder that I really haven’t jumped and relied solely on myself and my talents. 

Having two children is another excuse I use to stay in the safe zone and wait for someone to rescue me from this treadmill of lucidity—where I can see clearly the life I want, but lack the guts to move closer to it.

What would I do if I could do anything? I’d be more available to my children, teach yoga, write, speak, heal people, learn more of life’s ways—enjoy the connections of life and ponder their energy. I try to bring this to my everyday world now, and it’s gratifying to watch mainstream begin to accept what I’ve known for so long. It makes me hunger for more.

Of course, I want all of this and abundant prosperity. Perhaps it’s my attachment to money that’s holding me back. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t own a wide-screen, or TVO or even stainless steel appliances. I drive a seven year old car and only buy clothes on sale. So, it’s not like I live beyond my means or take pleasure in extravagence. I’m simply afraid to sacrifice what I have to obtain the life I want, without a backstop and someone to hold my hand.

Crazy hey?


Korey just woke from REM sleep crying that he needed to pee and saying something about Justin and that he couldn’t help it. I carried him to the bathroom and went back to check on Justin who was sleeping peacefully and, well, dry. I returned to Korey who was still sobbing and making strange noices. I stood with him while he slayed his demons. At one point he said very sternly, “Stop it.”

“What did I do?” I asked. “Not you,” he said and gestured in the other direction. Once he finished his business, he seemed happier, pain-free and the tears had stopped, but…

Whoa. That was weird and might I add, just a little terrifying.

Just writing

Random thoughts:

It’s 10:24 pm and I’m just starting this. I guess it will be another late night.

Getting up early when the kids are not here is virtually impossible.

I miss my kids.

Mitch is still in even though I forgot to vote last night. I guess one person didn’t make a difference this time.

I’m feeling blocked. Thus this mess of thoughts to break through the clutter.

I saw colour tonight at yoga. Maybe I’ll be seeing auras soon….oooh, creepy, I know.

I can do a headstand without hands.

I can finally do the scorpian against the wall.

The handstand I still need help with.

I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts. Seriously, that was the song that just sailed through my mind. Written by Fred Heatherton in 1944 and made famous by Danny Kaye.

Wikipedia is by far the best thing since www.

Pokemon shall remain a mystery to anyone over the age of 20.

Chocolate and peppermint are an awesome combo.

This trail is leading no where fast.

Maybe I’ll simply go to bed.

Redirecting Anger

A while back I contacted a boy from the past and the response wasn’t quite what I was expecting. As it turns out though, all the right things he said in his response were just, well, words on my screen. He was dodging bullets, not stopping long enough to quantify his prose.  I’m still pissed off about it. Mostly at myself for letting it bug me so much and falling prey once again to someone who doesn’t seem to have the capacity to measure up. It would be nice if I were wrong about this. Time is the greatest tattle-tale. 

Just to punish myself further I left the door open for my nemesis to saunter back in briefly. I’m always so cool you know, taking life as it comes, not thinking of tomorrow so much, just enjoying the moment. But, as it always happens, what I truly want sits beside me, patiently tapping me on the shoulder. “Lock the door, seek further,” it coos. “You’ll find the right person to share this marvelous life with you.”

These are the best years of my life. My mother is alive, my children are young and I’m healthy with a bright future and lots to look forward to. Somewhere in my subconscious I’m listening to an old worn out record that would serve me much better as remolded vinyl. I do deserve the best. I offer it and expect it in return. Most importantly, I am ready to accept no less.