Grannies

"I know you give because you want to

Don't you think it's time you learn to let yourself receive?"

"I Was Born To Love You" - Ray LaMontagne

I've listened to this song a lot on my current playlist but these lyrics really hit me in the chest as I thought about writing this morning.

I think most people would classify me as a pretty open person, even audaciously so, and that is true. But the really precious pieces of my life I am more careful about. 

This new year has felt like a renewal of priorities for me. For some reason I was able to slow down enough to see the passage of time this holiday season and really take stock of the last few years and what I'm looking for moving forward. I can work hard. I don't think anyone would deny that. Being a workhorse is a big part of my identity and that was amplified in the pandemic. I had my babies, I was in a position to work hard and I did - I worked really really hard.  If I wasn't working I was feeling guilty about not working because I knew how much need there was. I could be completely consumed by the volume of work and my sense of self within it because when you commit so many hours to something you become really good at it and I have said before work is sometimes easier than other aspects of life because that is where my capabilities shine because that is the place I have invested the most time. But going back to Edmonton at the holidays started chipping away at the shell I built around the certain parts of my heart, not the doctor parts or the mama parts but the parts of me as a woman in mid-life.  The hugs and love from cousins and college friends and people who knew me without my major titles of doctor and mother were the catalyst to start feeling comfortable at looking at those parts of myself again.

My most important work in my new administrative role is the work we have been doing with Indigenous Health.  That was the number one priority for me when I applied for the job and navigating this process has taken me places I never would have expected. The biggest unexpected gift has been partnering with the Grannies at the Women's Health Clinic. I came to the Sacred Fire at the Dancing Northern Lights not knowing anyone and was greeted so warmly especially by Grandma Louise.  So often when I meet people it's what I can provide for them whether as their physician or as the section head of Peds Gyne or the site head of the building. Here was a woman who asked nothing of me other than what was on my heart. When I shared with her my distress around CFS experiences at HSC and wanting change she smiled eyes to eyes and heart to heart and said "Amanda we can do this." That was a loud but gentle knock on the part of my heart that I was keeping really protected - let us in, we can do this.

We have had a few meetings now - all in circle and each time I feel less alone and more a part of a community. So on Wednesday when Grandma Louise emailed me that she wanted to meet before our next meeting that became my top priority. Do you want to come over for lunch on Friday? 

Friday morning Grandma Louise and Grandma Jeannie in their beautiful ribbon skirts came up the snowy steps of our house for lunch. They meandered through the kitchen and looked out to the river and through the bookshelves just like my own grandma would have done. We sat down at the dining room table with the china that my Oma bought for our wedding. Grandma Louise brought berries which has meaning in her culture but also has meaning in mine as my refugee grandparents spent their summers picking those berries in the Fraser Valley and so did I as a little girl. My mom's quilted centerpiece was under the candle in the middle of the table and a basket from the Sacred Forest in Kenya and surrounded by the cookbook on the counter of my grandma's best recipes with her and her outstretched arms on the cover and the photograph on the wall of my grandfather at the head of the table on the porch with all my great aunts and uncles; over these elements Grandma Louise asked me how I became a doctor. I could see reminders throughout the house of all of the people who supported and loved me to get to where I've gotten today: pictures of Catherine and the community in Salima who decided I should become a doctor, the little birch bark canoes that Phil's grandma made for our wedding, I shared with her that my grandfather had been the janitor of the hospital when I grew up and how I wanted to be just like him when I grew up because he was so loved and respected. "So it was really a calling Amanda". She asked me with the curious heart of someone who has seen so much in life and I felt so seen and cared for.  Grandma Louise is powerful and grounded and that energy is missing in our work and so needed. Grandma Jeannie is an artist and being around her is like if a person was molded around a sunbeam.  After our last meeting at Odeimin she came out to tell me she had an idea for a mural that is incredible and I was worried they wouldn't let us put it on the wall "We'll build our own wall - it's going to be great" and then she gave me a big hug. I was post-call and I think I could have moved mountains after that hug. The lunch at our house was about how big we could dream. What do we want to create at the hospital and how we could begin to achieve that. What I thought this was going to be when we started has shifted. There are the tangible pieces of shared programming within the hospital and in community that I think will be incredible. The ideas on how to make people feel more welcomed in our sterile space. All of the concrete things that I hoped would come out of this group. But there are some big things I hadn't anticipated. I hadn't expected that the sharing circles we have had where beautiful and creative decisions have come out in organic ways is how I want all important meetings to be. If we are talking about improving things I want people who have been directly impacted to share their experiences and their ideas for moving forward in a meaningful way. There is some resistance to that approach but I have seen a new way now and I don't think I can go back. 

But when Grandma Louise asked me what my big dream would be - the one you are sort of nervous to share cause it seems too difficult - I want people to leave their work and leave the hospital with the feeling that I get when I spend time with the Grandmas. They fill my heart right up to the top and the hard stuff in my job doesn't feel as hard because I feel so seen and cared for and listened to when I am with them. I didn't earn this feeling. Truthfully everything about white supremacy and colonialization should deny me this privilege but I feel freely loved. And that gives me wings and fuels my spirit.  

In my life the two words most commonly used after "universal" are "health care" and "love". So much of health care is devoid of love - it's been beaten out of us as health care workers and it's what patients are most looking for when they need care. When I hear from patients about their bad experiences in the hospital it is rarely because of a missed diagnosis or medication error - it's that they didn't feel cared for. Health care workers don't feel cared for either and that's why physicians who already make a lot of money keep asking for more - thinking that the gaping hole they feel can be satiated by a higher income.  

I would like to centre this care and groundedness and love as the heart of the work we do.  I would like to weave it into everything so it is inseperable from reproductive health and can't be undone by someone looking to dismantle it.  If we put this work at the centre the garden of what we can achieve scientifically and medically will feel richer and more beautiful. Sooooooo just a small dream but something I think we can achieve with the guidance that is being offered. I am so humbled by this gift in my work and in my life. 

The hugs at my front door yesterday I still feel this morning. They felt familiar like the hugs my grandma used to give. Oh how she would have loved these women. 

After my time with the Grandmas I was able to go out skiing on the Assiniboine river walking past where we placed the ashes from the sacred fire from Winter Solstice and reflecting on all I have learned with fresh air in my lungs as the sun set over the city. 

After putting the kids to bed I had time to myself and I thought it was the perfect time to use the cedar bath ingredients that were given to me as a gift after our last sharing circle. I followed the instructions and as the cedar was soaking beside the bath I realized it was sitting on the little bench I have from my grandparents. The one my grandma would put out for me to sit in the garden as we waited for tea time with my grandfather when he came home from the hospital. I sent a picture to my mom saying that grandma felt near me all day and she reminded me that her birthday was tomorrow. How fitting that she sent me grandmas in my life when I was in such need of them. 

Cedar baths are for cleansing and purification and I woke up this morning feeling amazing. I am letting go of the work of the pandemic and looking forward to the work ahead. My grandma was an incredible baker and used to say "Put a little love in it". That's what I intend to do.  And I'm so grateful to find a group of people who've put a little love in me too. 

My Favourite and Least Favourite Canada

 Today is the rainiest Canada Day I can remember and it allows me to sit a little longer with a cup of coffee and think about this country and what it means to me.

My experiences of Canada are really tied to everything I got to do last weekend. Cian finished Grade 9 and absolutely loves fishing. I, however, am not good at fishing. Fortunately, I know some lovely guys who are. Unfortunately, they live a bit far away. One such excellent fisherman is my friend Phil. Phil and I have known each other for 20 years. He was a teenager when he started working for Ric at CRCO and still lives in his home community of Grandmother's Bay. A few months ago I texted him and asked if he would take us fishing and his response was short and sweet "Yup. I put it in the calendar" and true to his word he was ready to go June 22.

Phil is infinitely more organized than I am. I tend to cram extra things and opportunities into every extra minute of living which is how I drove up to Missinipe with my beat-up duct-taped Suzuki full of random food and supplies with my warped Esquif (now complete with functional stern seat thanks to Keith) strapped to the roof. This level of chaos would surprise no one including Cian who was my partner in crime for this adventure.

This trip was especially disorganized with the end of the school year and soccer season taking up every evening. Cian actually got all the gear ready in the garage and I booked our campsite for the first night the night before because when I booked the Paddler's Hostel they only had Sat and Sun night. I usually see the advantages of last minute life but occasionally there are disadvantages such as booking last minute campsites in a system you aren't used to. Luckily they had one left.

We did manage to get going by 8:30 on Friday morning and were determined to do the whole drive as we had an epic day of fishing planned for Saturday. It turns out our drive turned a bit epic as well. It appears that Saskatchewan feels that zebra mussels can live on an upside down canoe driving at highway speeds. Their solution to that is to not really have any signs about it (I am told there was a highway sign) and definitely no sign at the stop I remember stopping at. They just put a random guy with a pick-up truck in a gravel parking lot. No sign. Just a guy hanging out on a summer day. So I made the mistake of not stopping to chat with said random gentleman hanging out in a gravel parking lot on my epic journey to Northern Saskatchewan. I mean really I didn't have any time for chit chat especially when I was unaware this was a requirement. What we really didn't have time for was to be stopped THREE towns later with lights and sirens from the conservation officers saying that I missed the check stop (the not labeled one) and that I would get a LARGE fine AND had to go BACK three towns to the random guy in the parking lot. I'm still not clear how they thought I was trying to smuggle my canoe into Saskatchewan. This was the first of three times we would be stopped by conservation officers in a four day trip. Cian asked me not to get arrested so clearly his expectations of his mom are low but I managed to clear that bar.

With our meandering Highway 16 zebra mussels detour we were definitely delayed so we arrived in La Ronge around 9pm. I had booked the campsite at Lac La Ronge provincial campground. I remembered through 20 year old hazy memories seeing the sign for it but couldn't seem to find it so we asked Siri how to get there. She was no help. So I looked at the website. It appears that Lac La Ronge Provincial campground is more of a idea than a specific place- you know, like purgatory which is what I felt like I was in as my circumstances started to dawn on me. I had assumed that it was a little campground outside of La Ronge with a few loops and we had a spot by the lake which sounded great. When I zoomed out on the map however I realized that Lac La Ronge Provincial campground was more a euphemism for that entire region of Saskatchewan.  By some divine miracle campsite C-1 which I thought would be in La Ronge was not in Pine Falls or some other random Saskatchewan location but was beside Otter Rapids just outside of Missinipe. Perfect! I knew how to get there but now we were racing daylight. Good thing I knew how to drive that gravel road. We barrelled down the old gravel road past Lynx Lake, a black bear, forest fire regrowth and Missinipe to hit the Churchill Bridge making it there with just enough daylight to set up our tent. 

In the morning we do what everyone does when they cross the bridge at Otter Rapids we went and checked out the rapids. Cian had no interest in going down them despite me telling him old tales of how his mom used to take kids down them and how she swam them in summers long ago. This did not pique his interest. He was singularly minded - today was fishing day. 

If you are going to have a fishing day you might as well start it where all good fishing trips start - at the dining room at Thompson camps.  We had a delicious breakfast there watching the motorboats and float planes go out on their respective adventures.

Just before meeting up with Phil we rounded the bend to CRCO. My old workplace has new owners this summer as Ric retired so I wasn't sure that I would see him but sure enough he was outside the office chatting with Dan and a couple other folks and we stopped in for a hug before the public dock. He had seen my name on the Paddlers Hostel booking and when I told him that Phil was taking us fishing and how I didn't even had the line on the rod for Cian Ric smiled his usual smile and said "I don't think you need to worry. Phil will take care of you like he always has.". The older generation has always been amused by my unlikely friendship with Phil but Ric's statement rang so true - Phil has always taken care of me even when he was a teenager. I instantly felt better that I was so disorganized and just rested in the fact that it was going to be a good day.

We met Phil at the public dock. He was all set up with his motorboat and picked up my barrel to carry it down to the water. Cian also found an immediate comfort following closely behind Phil armed with his tackle box that he got from another "Northern friend" Lee. I am so blessed to know men I would never have gotten to be friends with if I didn't have such love of the outdoors. Men who show up - who take time out of their lives to give such rich memories to my son who loves the things they love. I would drop everything and do anything for these guys - it's so interesting that you can have such an enduring love for people you don't usually see.  

It was a blazing hot day with a cloudless blue sky and water like glass. Phil took Cian to all his favourite fishing spots. He fixed up the 2 rods Cian brought and taught him what to use in which water. Phil and I talked all day like we seen each other just the other weekend. Our kids are almost exactly the same age which is wild since we both have 6 year old late additions. We talked with the ease we had when we were young but somehow it was even easier with the comfort of being older and seeing more of life. Phil's nature is perfect for someone like Cian who prefers not to talk but is most comfortable with people who chose to talk a little less (or at slower speed) than his mama. Phil didn't have too much trouble understanding him either. He caught some pike and pickerel and got to catch and throw back all the fish. At the end of the day when we were nice and crispy (despite our sunscreen reapplication) Phil took us down to check out Robertson Falls which I hadn't seen in many years. It was a perfect day.

 

 

We got to the dock to meet our second set of conservation officers. This interaction was infinitely worse. I know that conservation officers have important jobs but putting big vests on young people just allows them to puff up their chests while they spew their prejudice. It was clearly outside of the realm of this young man's understanding that an Indigenous man and a white woman could be friends for 20 years despite me telling him exactly that. He harassed us with questions about our day that I am sure would not have happened if Lee or Kevin or Ric had taken us fishing. Cian who usually likes to put in his two cents on any interaction with authorities could definitely read the room (or dock I guess) and kept his mouth shut. I'm still mad I didn't give them a harder time back. I have about 1000 witty retorts now which Keith reminds me I was not likely to say cause I had a 15 year old kid with me and to get into trouble that far from home is a bad idea....but I am still fired up about it. Partly because I have spent my whole life organizing myself to reduce any ounce of vulnerability and I felt vulnerable in this interaction. But mostly because I was furious that this young man saw my friend in such a one-dimensional racist way and that Saskatchewan had armed him with a vest and a false sense of superiority. He tried to reduce this big man to fit his stereotype instead of seeing the kind, thoughtful, caring man standing next to me. The dad of 3, the caretaker of his community, the loving son and brother - all they saw was an Indigenous man that they thought was inherently suspicious and I suspect our friendship made that suspicion even worse. I refuse to let the dock experience colour that beautiful day but I will also not soon forget how that made me feel.

The following day we nursed our well-earned sunburns at the Paddler's Hostel and played Wingspan and then went to paddle upstream. We were stopped AGAIN by the conservation officers asking if we had any fish in the car, if we were going fishing, etc. You would think we were peddling meth although I think we would have been stopped less for that. After the third interaction Cian asked if fishing was illegal which felt like a very fair question. We paddled over to Mosquito Rapids and down Three sisters. I got to show Cian some of my favourite places in this country and tell stories of trips long ago. He still didn't want to go down Otter Rapids which was ok with me. I popped the canoe on the roof of the Suzuki and the guy at the Devil Lake dock said "you've done that a time or two that's clear!" and I have to say that I always have a grateful thought when I pop a canoe yoke on my shoulders that I am still capable or running portage trails with a Royalex canoe on my shoulders - the privilege of that amount of good health is not lost on me.

 

We went over to Ric's for dinner and he had the old Wings Over Canada episode we were all in and Cian got to see Ric, Mom and Phil all 20 years younger. Cian refused to wear shoes after seeing Ric not wearing shoes. 

We hung out at the fire that night - eating marshmallows and enjoying to stars. The next morning came early and we spent the day driving home - our only conservation officer-free day. Cian is actually a pretty decent navigator - much better than Siri who took us to the Regina dump and didn't realize we would have a big detour around Headingley. Even with such a long drive this country is stunningly beautiful - whether it's the Canadian Shield of the north or through the rises and slopes of Q'uappelle Valley - there is beauty everywhere.  I'm so grateful to share my love of the outdoors with Cian. I wish I could do that without showing him the shadow side of this country. Anti-Indigenous racism is pervasive. I see it in the lives of my patients every day. I fight against it at work constantly. Despite people waxing poetically about the importance of Truth and Reconciliation their actions speak very different stories. I am consistently welcomed into Indigenous spaces where I should be treated poorly as a settler and as someone who is often representing Women's hospital in Winnipeg but instead I am consistently welcomed with kindness and inclusion. I bring this welcomed heart back to institutional roadblocks and excuses constantly. It is our job to keep fighting. I'm always amazed at how hearts remain open - whether they are the hearts of my friends, my patients or my Premier - there is hope everywhere. I will remember this today on this rainy Canada Day as I sit with my coffee and a beautiful birch bark canoe on the shelf beside me made by Phil's grandma for our wedding 20 years ago.  Canada Day celebrates a big country - one big enough to hold all of it's history and the hurts and hopes of all of us. 

1232 - Work in Progress

 We have been in the new house about 6 months now and it's slowly (slower than I expected) starting to feel like home.

There is more and more art on the walls. Slowly we are putting personal touches in all the rooms. I have to admit I hadn't really recognized all the work that would continue once we moved in. I thought once we got into a new house we would have "arrived" but we just swapped one project for another one.

I think it's going to take quite some time before we feel like we've gotten the house where we want it but we did reach one milestone yesterday.

Em had her birthday party last night with eight 12 year olds in the basement. They had free range of that space and it was fun to hear the squeals and goofing off of kids having fun in the basement (especially behind a closed door).  A big motivation for us was to have a space for the kids to have their friends over. There was some misadventures we weren't expecting: who knew a 12 year old's birthday would involve barfing from too much candy, a hole in the spare room wall and a broken glass. 

Em assures me that they tried to convince Liam who threw up to drink more water and that was the major problem but I told her that convincing your friends to drink more water when they are busy doing stupid stuff is a lifelong journey. I guess we are all works in progress whether you are a 12 year old kid or a brand new house. 

Lion-hearted Josh

 Once upon a time there was a young maiden in charge of three little children. Their parents had gone away and left them with her to coordinate all sorts of childhood misadventures. She was so very lucky these were the children she was in charge of as they were the kindest hearted and sweetest children you could imagine and they loved each other very much. The oldest was quite earnest and serious - he seemed to have a plan for his life like all eldest children in every storybook. The girl belonged in the middle of her brothers - curly ringlets and honest glasses she peered up over as she looked up to meet people's gazes. The baby was true to what all babies should be - charming and innocent - most of his small stature was taken up by the large curly mop atop his head. They were the perfect trio.

In her time with them, the oldest was pushing the boundaries of childhood. He was ok to have someone to mind him but he almost felt he could do it himself because he was serious and knew what was expected. His siblings looked up to him and he took that pretty seriously. They all had loads of fun together enjoying banquet dinners and carwashes and lots of giggles. Rarely do you think of these young times when there isn't much to worry about. You remember these times with fondness and move forward with living life.

But sometimes those little ribbons of time wrap around your heart and you tie them to little pieces of new information about little kids who grow into teenagers who grow into young adults. You hear through the meandering grapevines how they get older, get the jobs they always wanted, get married and live big beautiful lives. You hold these truths like tissue paper around the real treasure that was those innocent and pure memories of their childhood selves that you tuck deep into the recesses of your heart as the definition of innocence and childhood abandon.

But even the deepest recesses where those protected pieces are treasured can't be safeguarded from the tragedies that live in this world. Despite being tucked away in the maiden's heart those children grew up and lived in the world with all its magnificence and sorrow. The oldest fulfilled his dream of becoming a paramedic and helped so many people that he was brave enough to go to the farthest areas of the realm to assist the people who needed him the most. Just like Peter in Narnia he was brave and fought for what was right. So this boy, now a man to be true, went to the Ukraine and did his best. There is no doubt he did his best. He died there, where his ancestors died, where so many of all their ancestors died, surrounded by war; just like so many generations before. The grief crossing oceans back to the hearts of those who loved him. Those little childhood hearts broken apart. Even the young maiden, herself now a mother of her own perfect trio, felt the reverberations of that from worlds away. The grief blowing off the tissue paper of the collected adult stories of his life she had heard through the wind and distilling this loss down to that little boy of maybe 10 years old. The monsters are supposed to stay in the storybook where the brave boy slays them. What an unimaginable loss at the age of 34. 

When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty, I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.” - C.S. Lewis

Dear 33 Evanson Street

 What to say to the house that made our family a home?

I've been processing what to write to our old house. The new owners take possession on Wednesday and it hasn't really hit me that we won't be going back to what feels like home for the five of us.  

Dear 33 Evanson Street,

We have loved living with you for the last 16 years. We never considered we would live with you this long. We fell in love with you the moment we saw you. We dropped into Winnipeg for the Easter long weekend in 2007 with the hopes of buying a house and when we saw you we knew we found what we were looking for. The beautiful carved newel post in the front entry. The brick chimney in the middle of the sunny maple kitchen. The spiral staircase up to the loft was incredible (even with it's dangerous lack of railing) . We were so smitten. We were terrified we would lose the bid to the competing offer but so happy when we heard the news that we were successful. Despite our happiness in that moment I don't think we could have ever imagined the happiness you would bring us. 

The first few years it was just the two of us. We used the extra rooms for board games and overnight guests. My dad set up an unreasonable amount of shelving in the old basement. We had a housewarming party where Keith literally turned the heat off in November cause we warmed the house. We mowed the postage stamp of grass in the backyard and tried to get a handle on the beautiful shade garden in the front yard (a feat I never conquered). We had so many dinner parties and Guitar Hero nights and endless boardgames. We started our annual Thanksgiving tradition.  We hosted my grandparents and their last big trip was out to visit you.

Then we were lucky enough to start our family with you.  In the dead of January 2009 Cian came home and nestled into the bedroom upstairs. No longer the boardgame room with the faux brick wallpaper - it had transformed to the blue and green nursery with the "Around the World" quilt made by his Omi. He was the tiniest thing tucked under that blanket - all 6lbs 12 oz of him. His room was showered in monkeys and buckets of love. His Opa had made him a beautiful cherry cradle that rocked him on the uneven hardwood floors with the saying underneath "Dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing".  He rested his head on the cherry wood while his Opa ripped the kitchen apart in January and installed a dishwasher (the one we had for 13.5 years actually).  Mennonites are "acts of service" kind of love language people. The kitchen was the first of the "with a kid comes a renovation" projects you endured.

Our first stumbling steps of parenthood you were with us. We spent hours in the living room feeding Cian (he was not the best at that) and binge-watching Veronica Mars.  Countless hours rocking in the rocking chair in front of the inset bookshelf looking at my classic favourites and books I may read one day. We loved the pure joy of bath time in that old clawfoot tub. 

A few years later Emily was on her way and like the women in her family before her she was bringing drama. We knew with two kids the two useable kid floors were going to get really tight. We were desperate to figure out a way to stay with you and it made sense to go down. Two kids were going to need a place to play and without a railing to the loft the basement seemed the best solution. Trouble was that no one was interested in this project. I found the one concrete company willing to take on the unknowns of a 100 year old basement.  We dug down the foundation to make sure our tall loved ones didn't smack their heads chasing the littles who built their play space in your cocoon and replaced all of your most important insides. You were the welcome distraction for my dad during one of the hardest parts of his life as he pounded nail after nail, 300 screws in the stairwell so it didn't squeak, buckets of drywall mud and an ambitious overnight project of building an entire oak railing. Emily's impending arrival meant new laminate floors on the main floor and staining every piece of oak in the living room by hand - three generations at work. 

We celebrated your 100th birthday when Emily was born - the 0/100 party.  It was a good one. You looked great for 100. And you had a new buddy who ran the show. She walked before 10 months all over the white tile kitchen floors even when her brother tried to throw trucks at her feet and she extinguished her first birthday candle with her fingers in the darkness of the dining room to the harmonies of "Happy birthday" that can only be achieved in an Irish/Mennonite family.

There was a year I spent studying for my royal college exam in the loft. What a beautiful space to spend such an incredibly difficult time. Lifted into the treetops those sunbeams and moonbeams through the skylights carried me through the tears of frustration, unyielding stress and hours of studying. 

When we got the fellowship spot in Australia we never considered selling. You were our house and we figured someone could enjoy you for the year we were away. We tucked all of our belongings into all of your extra spaces: in the attic, under the front porch, in the crawlspace and the college students took good care of you while we had our Australian adventure. That's until there was a leak in the bathroom and we decided on the big renovation. 

When we returned and I was a grown-up doctor we figured we could do a real face-lift and stay with you as a family of 4. That was the big upstairs bathroom renovation, the big kitchen redo and the addition of the mudroom, powder room and garage. We decked out the front and back too (literally!) just for good measure. You looked amazing. I think even in our new space I will dream of kitchens with brick backsplashes and cork floors. I planned that whole kitchen around the backyard sunbeam and it never disappoints - it kisses your face at the perfect time for a weekend cup of coffee.

We knew it was coming. It's like when your favourite sweater doesn't fit quite right anymore and you tug on the cuffs wishing against the inevitable. The kids were getting bigger and it was hard to find enough space. The corners we used to tuck friends and family for overnight visits didn't have as much space. We would occasionally look at other houses and feel like we were cheating on you. Nothing could feel as good as the house we loved so much. We stayed and poured more love inside your walls. There isn't a wall we haven't painted or a baseboard we haven't stained. We hosted big outdoor thanksgiving dinners and Halloween trick or treating on the front porch. We chased rainbows in the living room from the stained glass prisms. We filled the house with song top to bottom from the piano in the heart of our home and the kids would open their doors and flip around on their beds so they could hear the music. We got on with the business of living our life and loving our family.

But then came Sam. 

You always have room for one more and our little family was no exception. Sam entered the world as the little Morris Manta Ray with his older siblings SO excited for his arrival they could barely stand it. He was dragged in his little vibrating chair or in the cradle all over the house by them - there was no corner that could escape him. We were so grateful to have all 3 of our babies come home safely to your embrace.  So many people were worried Sam would feel left out because he was younger but he always believed that the world didn't begin until he descended that old wooden staircase, rounded the newel post and yelled "surprise!". 

In the pandemic we were so grateful to be in a place where we felt so safe. When everything felt like chaos you were the steadfast anchor in our lives - we had no doubts we could retreat into your walls since we had been doing it for years. And just like the best relationships we found new ways to love you. We organized how I would quarantine in the basement and slide food across the shelf at the top of the stairs to avoid infecting my family with this unknown virus. We orchestrated elaborate routines at the beginning to minimize infection coming into our safe haven. Our kids learned how to do school from their rooms, they learned how to be responsible for their brother and bake pies and cook Sunday dinners. Keith and I started Saturday night date nights in the loft and rediscovered a new way to love that space - I'm so grateful for those evenings together where our kids would pop their heads up through the floor to say good night.  

In the midst of loving you in the pandemic Keith found the rumblings of a new dream.  We had looked at houses on the river before but hadn't found anything that seemed to fit and here was an opportunity to make something ourselves. It wouldn't be perfect for us but we could maybe make the space we needed and grow to love it as much as we love you.  We thought about this so much because why leave where we love? But deep down we knew that as these babies you cradled got bigger we would need more space. If we really honestly looked at it we knew. We were staring the heartbreak of a break up in the face knowing it was inevitable and being given the gift of something that could be a new start. We were like kids leaving the nest but knowing that the nest wouldn't be ours to return to. We took the leap. But not without hyperventilating (and from Keith not from me let it be known). Transitions are hard and though our heads were ready our hearts were not. 

Designing this new house I found an ad that said "The house was designed to hug you" and that is what you did to everyone who entered your"womb-like living room" as Katie would say.  You aren't just loved by us - you are loved by our friends and family. So much of what we love about you we incorporated into this new family home. We are beyond grateful to have loved and cried and laughed and lived with you over these 16 years as a family. We hope that the new owners who are lucky enough to share part of their lives with you understand the tremendous gift you are and that you are loved by them for many years to come.  You were our "heart's longing" and you will be loved by our family forever. 

"That house was a perfect house, 

whether you like food or sleep,

or storytelling or. 

singing, 

or just sitting and 

thinking best, 

or a pleasant mixture of them all.

Merely to be there was a cure for weariness."

 - JRR Tolkien

Redemption and Resilience

Yesterday Emily finally got to perform with her musical theatre group. She did an incredible job. It was a. huge catharsis for our family who this time last year were devastated that she got COVID the morning of her performance. I think up until that point we had all been doing reasonably well with the pandemic but watching a 10 year old put a year of blood, sweat and tears into her first ever performance and to have it be as big a role as Rafiki in the Lion King (with the constant wailing of Circle of Life throughout the house in anticipation) well that kind of disappointment was palpable to all who live here. 

BUT yesterday despite a year of ups and downs with illness for our little asthmatic she got to performance day well and ready to go. 

I went to both shows mostly so that I could be alone in the first one and just enjoy the moment completely on my own. She was clearly nervous but she did such an incredible job.  All the kids put in such a great performance! Their teachers had clearly prepared them for handling if there were any technical issues or if they made a flub. There were very few flubs though - they did amazing.

I went backstage between the two shows to check on her and she had felt good about the performance bolstered by the audience reactions I think but was still a bit nervous. She was getting more confident over the course of the show and I was hopeful with a little encouragement she would knock it out of the park on the second show when all of her friends were coming.

And indeed she did! She relaxed a bit and had some fun and her singing was amazing! She's still the skinniest teapot that has probably existed but she rocked that teapot costume like a champ.

Last year's setback was really tough and she wasn't sure she wanted to do musical theatre again this year and I am SO thankful that she got back out there and tried again, risking heartbreak, to enjoy a year of crafting a show with a great group of kids and enjoying the euphoria of thunderous audience applause (x2).  What a kid.

Thank you to our friends who made the time to come out on a beautiful Saturday afternoon to cheer on our girl. Thank you to the whole Rivardson crew (even Justin on call!), Katie, Adrian - who couldn't come but gifted her tickets to Cheryl and Caitlin who were happy to use them, Olivier Poliquin who has never even seen the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast and is not the kind of kid that singing teapots were made for but was such a supportive friend and brought the cutest plant for Em, her proud dad and her brothers who dressed up and brought their personally picked bouquets for their sister.  Cian picked pink and purple flowers because those are Em's favourite and he is the kind of kid who pays attention to the details of what other people love and always wants to give that to them. Sam picked orange and blue because he is a kid who likes a wow factor and razzle dazzle in everything he does (including his bombing outfit, red shoes and gold mohawk). Em loved getting flowers from her brothers. 

Yesterday was the culmination of two years of hard work - one that ended in heartbreak and one that ended in resounding success. We are so proud of how Emily handled both.

"Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired and success achieved." - Helen Keller

Into the Woods

 

This past Friday I took my assistant to "Into the Woods" as her Christmas present.  We brought our 10 year old daughters as our "dates". Applebee's and Sondheim - what's not to like?

Cheryl is a single mom so I asked her if this is what she would like for Christmas as I thought she might want this for her daughter C and indeed she thought that would be a great experience for her daughter. IT was also a gift for me to have these two young girls sit for hours in rapt attention enjoying a beautiful and incredibly staged production of a classic story. I am happy to make little musical theatre lovers :)

The surprise for me was how Sondheim hit me so different this time around.  I have seen Into the Woods multiple times.  I love Sondheim but he isn't usually my favourite as his tonal interests are usually divergent from mine.  This time watching it though I'm not sure if it's because of how they staged it or because we had seats in the 5th row or because I'm older now (I think it's the latter) but the lyrics really hit so differently. 

It was like hearing the lyrics for the first time.  The songs, especially in the second act where so different to me.  It wasn't just campy fairytale music - there was truth and melancholy and depth.  I talked with Em on the way home about how art can hit you differently as you walk through your life and just how amazing that is.

"Into the woods you have to grope

but that's the way you learn to cope

Into the woods to find there's hope

of getting through the journey

Into the woods

Each time you go

There's more to learn

Of what you know

Into the woods but not to slow

Into the woods it's nearing midnight 

Into the woods to mid the Wolf, to heed the Witch, to honour the Giant, to mind, to heed, to find, to think, to teach , to join, to go to the Festival 

Into the woods then out of the woods

And happy ever after! I wish!"