A Tribute to Father's

I had a wonderfully imperfect father growing up. He did the very best he knew how to be a father to me. I could have chosen to spend the rest of my years, picking apart his imperfections and how they tainted or stunted me. But you know what, who he was and how he was are sewn in to the fabric of who I am today, and heck I am bold enough to admit I turned out pretty darn well. Father's day gifts, were always my favorite. As a little girl, I adored pouring on the love and telling my dad just how fabulous I thought he was. He was in fact that first man I loved, and he single handedly had my heart for a very long time. In fact, when he died I discovered in his closet a box of letters he had kept, from when he worked away. They were letters I wrote to him for everyday he was not home, a collection of love letters with the sweetest declarations of adoration ( I digress).

As a woman, Father's Day was a time for me to share with my Dad how some of the offerings he shared with me had shaped the person I am. I completely admired my dad's ability to continue to grow, examine himself and learn new things. The most touching example of this came in his sixtieth year of life. That was the year, my dad changed from the Catholic church to the Untied church. This was a big move for him and showcased how his religious up brining wasn't going to determine his spiritual practice in his later life. Shortly after joining the united Church the congregation began a discussion on whether they would perform gay marriages. My dad had a strong opinion on the matter, and attended the first discussion to share his thoughts. He boldly declared, that marriage was a sacrament and this was the driving force behind his opposition to the proposal. The minister kindly turned to him and explained, "it's not in this church Rick." And my dad's opposition was stopped in its tracks. Many weeks later, my dad called to share a personal moment with me. He explained that during the minister's sermon declaring why the church would know openly accept and perform gay marriage, he was brought to tears. "It's all about love Shan, how could I have ever been against that." It was one of the most tender moments I shared with my father, the witnessing of a crumbling wall of a belief no longer needed.

In my father's 62nd and final year of life, he joined his first choir with me by his side. He declared to me that he figured he had been a closet singer his entire life. And in fact, the day before his life ended my dad sang with gusto in the church choir on the one and only day his adored grandson's choice to check out this church.

So my tribute here is to honor each and every Dad out there and the tender loving moments they share with there children. Cause even with in the most imperfect of people there is love. And I dare say that this love is the only thing that reaches out and lives beyond our physical existence.

Happy Sleeping

I was super moved after reading this post by Swiss Army Wife, that when I started to leave a comment I realized I might have a little more to say then just what can be summed up in a post blog comment. So here goes. 

Before my first son was born, we created a Jungle themed room for him complete with a brand spanking new crib bought by proud Grandpa to be. We found the cutest bed set and got it all ready. In my pre  momma brain, I just figured when the baby was sleepy I would put him in there and he would sleep. I mean that is what I had witnessed time and time again on the large number of Baby Story shows I had been indulging in. 

When my son did make his appearance in to the world, born at the foot of our bed, we instinctively curled up in bed and cuddled for days. I kept waiting for the moment when it made sense to put him in his crib to sleep. And it simply never showed up.

There were times when daddy needed more sleep, so we put a double mattress on the jungle room floor and baby and I slept there. The crib was a great place to store toys and more then once I put baby in there so he could hold on to the edge of crib and bounce up and down up and down. He really enjoyed that.  It just never made sense for him to sleep there. 

This chance to sleep with my children for the past eight years, has come to open up a pretty cool world to me.  We now coin sleeping in our house as, playing musical beds, just because you fall asleep in one bed, you are not guaranteed to wake up in that same bed !! 

A night terror could send you running in to the warm place between two adults, or a crick in the neck could send you searching for the emptiest bed. Every bed in our home, is open to whomever needs in when they need it, no questions just loving arms to welcome you. 

My oldest has night terrors and often asks, "how did I get in here" upon waking or, "tell me about last night's terrors." He is absolutely fascinated by the fact that while he sleeps peacefully we bear witness to him screaming in terror and seeing things that are beyond our scope of vision. I am comforted in those moments by simply holding him, loving him and eventually drifting back to sleep.

The other treasured gift that sleeping together has given me is the best pre-sleep connection times ever! This is the time in the day when I get to lie with one of my boys all to myself. We talk about the stuff that floats around in their minds right before sleep. We get to dispel myths, remove worries and reassure each other of our connection. We laugh a lot about silly things we saw, jokes we have made up or just at the kind of things you say when you are drunk with sleepiness. 

In these precious moments I know my boys on a deeper level. I get a milliseconds peek in the busy minds that are theirs. And we talk about the kind of stuff that can keep ones mind up with worry. 

A favorite of mine to hear, "mommy can you put up the catcher and make sure it is full only of all the things and people I love." There was a time when sleep eluded my youngest as he was sure he would have a bad dream. So, we talked about dream catchers and there role in different cultures. He was drawn to this idea and asked me if I could put one up for him. In my adult mind, I thought this meant searching out a handmade dream catcher and affixing it to his bed. To him it meant using his and my vivid imagination to create a protective shield a top the bed, to stop anything yucky from getting in to his sleep world right now!  And so that is what we did and do near every night since. 

I have been asked night after night to recreate stories, original of course with the starring characters being my boys. This has opened to me a passion I have for the telling of children's stories. And I will admit that even on the nights when sleep presses heavy on my eyelids, I can always be perked up by the request for a "pretend story." 

Some nights are trickier then others as we negotiate our way through four different personalities and the circumstances life tosses our way.  But is just keeps making sense to find away for every to fall asleep happy and all loved up .... 

Conference Crud

I saw a few facebook posts of fellow Life Is Good conference attendees referring to conference crud. And as my house filled with the sounds of sneezing, coughing and the odor of explosive rear ends I knew just what everyone was referring to.  It hit the boys before slapping me upside the head.

My head was still so jazzed from all the connections and inspirations from the conference that while lying in bed I got to thinking, and thinking and thinking a little more about this thing called conference crud.

I wondered to myself, could it be true that after my soul was so enriched my physical body had some toxins it needed to expel?

It began to make sense to me that guttural explosions (from either end) could indeed be my bodies way of aggressively purging those deep seeded fears that for survival needed to be expelled from my body. Their fast and furious departure mirroring my commitment to release all and any roadblocks holding me back from living in freedom with my boys each and everyday.

And that slow and annoying nasal drip (post and non post) could be indicative of lingering beliefs that are so habitual I near miss them when they trigger me.  The kind of things, that truly need to be wiped away in order to see they are there. Perhaps these fall in to those should or would categories of beliefs that require a good .... long hard blow to eradicate.

The sore throat and cough perhaps my voice, crying out to speak its' truth. Reminding me of the little girl who so early on learned to be silent and not rock the boat.  And encouraging me to tune things up so the message my boys hear is one that encourages the full living of every passion that ignites them.

So in hindsight I thank the Conference Crud, if for no other reason then making me lie down and think about the stuff I was ready to purge from my life.

I have to admit

.. I have been faking it just a little bit when it comes to fully trusting my boys will come to reading all on their own with out interference from me. I rely heavily on others I admire in the unschooling community to remind me that this will happen ...

.. I am after all a product of the public school system, from which I jumped full on in to a Bachelor of Education program, graduating with distinction. So, a huger part of the trusting, has been me letting go of what was thrust upon me and embracing what is unfolding in front of me.

.. My oldest is seven nearing eight and if asked by well meaning relatives I will say, "yes he is reading," and then quickly change the subject. Truly, in my wider definition of the word he is reading. He interacts with text, he notices letters and words, he navigates computer and video games screens, points out familiar signs and the such.

.. Recently my eyes have been opened even wider to the amazing process of language understanding that is my sons. He has been pointing out to me, words and letting me know what letter they start with. A basic skill some may say, however, he has devised this system on his own and it is his. His understanding, his terms, his time line and there is a quiet confidence that he exudes while using it.

.. On the way home from the Fedex office last evening, the most hilarious conversation unfolded between the two of us. It began with him again discovering letters that begin words (this time of some of our favorite people)

    Son, "You mean K, J, F and F"

   Me a little puzzled, trying to devise who he is referring to asking for clarity, he gives me the names and then the humor entails.

   Me "actually, Craig is with a C who's making a K sound and Gillian with G who is making the J's and there is silent E ... "

  Son, "What the F**K people. Letters should only have one sound. Who made this up people from space."

Not only does this moment highlight the joyful, hilarious relationship I am honored to share with my son. It also showcases to me, that he is continually trying to come to terms with the english language. He is more then learning to read, he is solving a giant puzzle, piece by piece. He is finding his way to an understanding that makes sense to him so he can use it over and over again to encounter new words and situations.

I bow down in gratitude to those who have trusted before me and shared their stories so I could continually be reminded, to do the same.

Things I was wrong about

This past week, I have truly been reflecting on things, I thought I knew about myself and my own limitations.


And you know what I was wrong about a few things.

Prior to this move, I would have told you, "I can't drive in big cities, it's just too much." And now I drive on freeways sometimes with 12 lanes. Not only do I drive on them, I navigate, predict my next move and ensure I am in the lane I need to be. Heck, I have even pulled the daring move of a huge acceleration that allows me to narrowly pass a car in order to make a turn I might otherwise miss. Worry not, I always give a wave of thank you, I am after all Canadian.

Six months ago, I would have told you, "I could never live in the US." Well, here I am living, laughing and enjoying myself in the US. It's not as scary as I thought it would be, there are some super nice folks here and lots of grand opportunities. I will always be Canadian however, I am making the most of my US adventures.

In the past, I likely would have told you, "I have no sense of direction." Turns out I have a pretty keen awareness of the space around me and can navigate myself from off the beaten path, back on to the beaten path. Who knew!

For the better part of my life, I have held on to a line, told to me by teacher after teacher after teacher, "she is so shy." I have told myself this on many an occasion, not as an affirmation, I see now, but perhaps as an excuse. Turns out, in many situations, I am not that shy after all. Sure maybe I have days where I feel shy or nervous, I like to turn that around now and say "I am having an introvert kinda day," instead of using it as a definition of how or who I am in social settings. I am actually, in some instances, rather extroverted and make new connections with ease .. Huh, interesting new observations.

At the end of my pondering, I came to realize, without saying "Yes" to those things that frighten me, or push the boundaries of my own comfort zone, I would miss out on knowing new things about myself. And it is about time, I stop carrying around others peoples stories about me, and be the author of my own experience.

Just Say Yes

... cause quite often you haven't a clue what you are really in for.

"Hey mom wanna have a hot bath with me?"

"Sure," with a hint of reluctance.

We jump in and chat, the water fills up.

"I'm hot, and gonna get out. Actually, I just made this hot bath for you mom. And this isn't one of my pranks I really did. Now I am going to turn off the lights and get some candles to light for you."

Exit five year old to find the afore mentioned candles and return with daddy to help him light.

"Today is your lucky day and this is your treatment mom."

Exit five year old and daddy, leaving me to a hot bath, on my own, by candle light!"

And this is why I say YES!

I'm serious

This past week, I have witnessed in a new way the importance of truly taking my children and their passions seriously. Mitchel is crazy about hockey. For him this means full immersion in the sport, through games, play, conversation and mimicking. We have had to gather gear, in order to emulate hockey players. This week's request was for a mouth guard and a jock.

I can not pin point the moment when we discussed a jock, or the need for one, however here was my seven year old requesting one. There was every opportunity for me to laugh, joke and question this requirement. Yet, there was a part of me that knew this was an important moment and a genuine request. And so we went to a store and we purchased a jock and a mouth guard. We discussed what would be a good fit, wondered how to put one on, all the time treating it like any piece of sports equipment.

I quickly came to see, that what was happening was powerful for him. He was discussing how to protect his body. He was requesting equipment that all hockey players request. He was purchasing his first jock, with folks he trusts and loves. There was no shame, there was no embarrassment there was nothing but the job at hand.

At home, we examined our purchase, discussed who we thought it would be best to put on and then we tried it on. Right there in the comfort of his own living room, he tried on his jock. There was no secrecy, there was no locker room humor, there was no shame. This was a natural part of being a hockey player. I kept seeing how this was important, this was not something to joke about or make fun of, this was important and I was grateful that I had the awareness to take him seriously.

Next up were discussions while playing hockey in the rain, about females and do they where a jock? Which of course turned in to an anatomy lesson about where the important reproductive parts of males and females are located. There was no big moment of having a "talk" , there was no shame, there was no giggling, there simply was a matter of fact conversation in the hockey game that seriously addressed his wonderings.

In my growing and learning, there was such shame attached to the body, its functions and its sexuality. As I raise my boys, in an open and trusting way, providing answers to their questions and taking their ponderings and passions seriously, I come to see the power in truly taking them seriously. There is a message of faith, of value that comes with this. And I see in them a quiet sense of confidence building as they come to know themselves and the world around them, as truly worthy of serious consideration.