The Mommy Melt Down Begins

"There isn't a child who hasn't gone out into the brave new world who eventually doesn't return to the old homestead carrying a bundle of dirty clothes." ~Art Buchwald

I've actually done better with the idea of Jacob leaving home than I thought I would. I'm trying hard to be brave and put on a good face when I speak to him about life in the dorm and the wonderful world of university. When asked by friends how I'm feeling about facing an empty nest, I say "I'm doing just fine. This experience will be wonderful for Jacob. It is important for his growth and I'm happy for him as he embarks on this exciting journey." Sounds like the right answer and it's basically true.

I've been okay as I gather the things he'll need for September. Bedding - check. Towels - check. Fridge - check. Dishes - check. I'm well ahead of the game. We have the whole summer after all. We still have lots of time to hang out together. Why does the newspaper say it's July 31? It can't be. Oh God! And the meltdown begins.

I don't want Jacob to feel bad about going or guilty about leaving us behind so I'm trying not to show how much I'm struggling. My own parents laid enough of that guilt on me to make me feel strongly that I don't want to do the same to my child. I won't be telling him that I will die when he goes (which is what my dad told me). I won't tell him how my heart is breaking at the thought of not seeing him everyday (that was my mom). And I'm not worried he'll read about my angst here because I'm pretty sure he doesn't read my blog.

But my reality today is that I'm on the brink of tears. At the end of next week, Jacob will be going away for two weeks. That means he has just three weeks at home before he moves into residence. I don't know when that happened. And frankly, I don't know how I'm going to get through it. I know I should be happy for him and I am. I know I should see his success in making this transition as a testament to how well we've prepared him and I do. I know it's the best thing for him. I know he'll do great. I know he will thrive. I know I'll adjust. I know. I know. I know.

Today I'm struggling. My baby is getting ready to leave home.

Paint It Pink

"Cancer is not a death sentence, but rather it is a life sentence; it pushes one to live."
- Marcia Smit -

Avon has a new breast cancer fund raising program called Paint It Pink Canada. Avon is inviting the public to make a statement in pink, by making, creating or doing something in pink and then taking a picture of it. The picture is then uploaded to the Paint It Pink Canada website where viewers can vote on the picture of their choice. Every time a viewer votes (you can vote once each day), Avon will donate $2 to the breast cancer charity chosen by the person who uploaded the picture. I have chosen Willow Breast Cancer Support Canada.

I didn't use Willow when I was in the midst of my cancer journey. I didn't really know much about the services that Willow provides. I wish I did. I now sit as Vice President of the Board of Willow and I know what really great help the agency provides. Willow supports people today who can't wait for tomorrow's cure. Willow provides peer support, information and help in navigating the breast cancer journey - a lifeline to many women dealing with breast cancer.

I've spent a few weeks considering what I would create for the Paint It Pink campaign. In the end I didn't really come up with anything that felt original enough, or fun enough or optimistic enough. So I retrieved the photo of me in my pink shirt, bald and puffy from a few months of chemo. I used the picture when I was fundraising for the Weekend to End Breast Cancer when I made my first victory walk in 2006. I know the picture shocked some people but I never really saw it that way. It was the reality of what I was dealing with that year. At first glance, my bald head may seem disturbing but if you really look at the picture, you can't miss the life in my eyes or the genuine smile on my face. I had already moved from survivor to thriver.

I'm attaching the link to the Paint It Pink website. I really hope you will visit often and click on my picture and vote. And it would be great if you would tell your friends too. Let's see if we can raise some real money for Willow so that a lot more women will get the support they need to help them make the survivor to thriver leap.

Please click on the link below to vote for my photo:
http://paintitpinkcanada.com/pages/gallery.php?lang=eng&id=07291234593688

The Black Hole

"Old houses mended,
Cost little less than new before they ’re ended."

- Colley Cibber (1671 - 1757) -

We've been shoveling a lot of money into the black hole of house repairs and maintenance this year. I'm not having any fun. Renovating the kitchen a few years ago was really expensive but really satisfying. Same with the decks and the lower floor. But this year it's new windows, fixing the fencing and visits from the exterminator. Not stuff that makes me feel bang for our buck.

Living on the ravine has been great. It is truly wonderful to enjoy the lush foliage and a near view of wildlife while still living in the city. But as with all things, there is a flip side or as Dr. Phil likes to say, even the flattest pancake has two sides. The deer and the bunnies don't try to live in my house. The carpenter ants and the mice do. Spraying for carpenter ants has been a yearly event since we moved here. A couple of years, we had the house sprayed multiple times. There was even the year when Merv heard the ants chewing inside the baseboards - too gross to even go into.

I was pretty horrified by the ants but that horror pales in comparison to how I feel about the mice. I hate rodents so much when Jacob was little, I struggled with taking him to see Stuart Little and Stuart wears a suit, drives a car and sounds like Michael J. Fox. Last year I discovered we have mice in the garage and that is hard enough for me. I couldn't bring myself to park in the garage for about two months after I knew. What's worse though is that three times this year they made a foray into the house. The first time was in April when Merv was out of town and a mouse decided to appear in the kitchen while I was hosting a dinner party. Much screaming and crying ensued. Jacob put out the poison and set the traps. He never did catch it but it did eat the bait in the furnace room. A month later, I was treated to an appearance while sitting in the downstairs family room. Merv set the traps and put out the poison but I was having none of it. I called the exterminator. Several hundred dollars later I was assured there would be no issue with seeing a mouse in the house again. Last week, that assurance proved to be unfounded. So yesterday the exterminator was back. I'm hoping to sleep again sometime this summer.

Around April the back fence blew down. While we have paid a deposit to an ironworks service, it is still down. Very frustrating. Then there are the windows and doors. We did our due diligence, got three estimates, visited the showroom, got a recommendation and chose with care - not the least expensive of the proposals. The expected June installation became a July installation. One of the windows in the office and the front doors were the wrong size. What I was advised would be a two week delay on those items became a four week delay. Then there are the holes and chips the installers put in the walls in almost every room in the house, and the gouge in the kitchen cabinetry. One of the windows is missing it's hardware. The foot lock wasn't installed on the patio door. There are black, greasy handprints on every wall and window and the two windows which were supposed to be frosted were installed with plain glass. Seven of the windows went uncaulked for two and a half weeks. Getting things fixed, attended to and completed has been a daily chore. All this for the low, low price of just under $30,000. Agghhh! The walls will get filled where the holes were left but now they will also have to be repainted. The foyer painting will require hiring a professional and I will be looking at an unplanned expense of about $3,000. At the end, it will all look the same as before. Not a very sexy way to spend $33 grand.

At the end of these projects we will take a breath and a break - until next spring when a new roof and a new garage door are on the renovation agenda. I'd rather spend a month in Hawaii.

The Watermelon Lady

"They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel." - Carl W. Buechner

My mother doesn't know me. It has been about ten years since she first started to forget who I am but she still used to know me some of the time. I was the first of her daughters to be lost from her memory bank. That seems a bit odd to some people as I am the youngest. I think my sisters used to worry that it hurt my feelings that Mom could remember them but not me. I won't tell you it didn't feel bad but I didn't feel any less loved by her. There is no understanding Alzheimer's. It just so happens the first hole in Mom's brain was in the piece that held me.

Over the course of time, Mom's cognitive function has been in continuous decline. She has been in a nursing home for more than four years now and she doesn't really know my sisters anymore. Nancy goes to the nursing home everyday. On the odd occasion she is rewarded by a smile of recognition from Mom. Cathy has joined me in the hole. When Mom was first in the nursing home we would take her out every Sunday, usually to Cathy's house where we would share a family dinner. It eventually became too much for Mom and outings started to be reserved for holidays and special occasions. This year we didn't bring her home for Christmas, opting for Boxing Day instead when there was far less hoopla to fray her nerves.

On Sunday afternoons my sisters and I usually meet at the nursing home to spend a couple of hours with Mom. At the beginning of this transition from dinners at Cathy's to gatherings at Mom's, I would always bring a picnic, of sorts, with treats that Mom wouldn't normally get in the nursing home - pastries and melon and special drinks. I would bring pretty dishes and placemats and seasonal napkins. Mom loved to examine the pretty things. But times have changed. The simple pleasures of admiring a pretty plate or eating little delicacies are mostly gone. I don't bring pretty dishes or linens anymore. Even interest in eating most of the treats I brought is now gone. The only things that are left are Timbits and watermelon and some days even Timbits don't elicit a response.

Nonethess, there is watermelon. It is the only simple pleasure I still know to give Mom. And I've noticed that though she doesn't know I am Jackie, her youngest child, mother of her only grandson, she does immediately look when I arrive to visit, to see if I've brought watermelon. I've become the watermelon lady in my mother's world.

I'm often asked if it makes me feel there is no point in visiting my Mom anymore - after all she doesn't know me. The truth is, it doesn't really matter if she knows me or not. I know her.

Shoe Therapy

"

I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and sixty." - Imelda Marcos

The unrelenting rain and thoughts of my baby leaving home, have dampened my spirits in the past few days. I've been feeling a bit gray. Though I'm usually up early and quite prepared to take on the day, the pouring rain this morning made me want to pull the covers over my head and stay in bed all day. Alas, I had two meetings scheduled downtown so I got myself into the bath, did my hair, dressed and headed downtown. Traffic was lousy so I arrived and parked at the Eaton Centre (on the roof) with barely enough time to race to my lunch meeting in the Simpson's Tower.

The route to my appointment took me through the shoe department at The Bay. I noticed the "Take an extra 30% off signs" but didn't have time to shop. The truth is, I don't need shoes. I think I've probably outdone Imelda by a few pairs. When I arrived for my lunch, I learned that it was, in fact, scheduled for a half hour later than I thought - enough time to go visit the shoe department at The Bay.

There is nothing quite like a new pair of shoes to brighten my spirits. The great thing about shoes is that I know that even if I gain or lose a few pounds, my shoes will still fit. The pair I bought today are in multi hues of blue, a perfect match to the dress I had on. I put the pair I was wearing in my purse and wore the new ones to my meeting. It was a business development meeting and though I've spoken by phone to the woman I met with several times, we hadn't met face-to-face until today. I don't know if she noticed my new shoes but if she did, she no doubt noted how cute they are.

Right after that meeting, I raced to the next meeting at King and Yonge. When I finished a couple of hours later, the sun was out. I think my new shoes might have lifted God's spirits too - further proof that God is a woman.

Channel Surfing

I wish there were a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence. There's a knob called "brightness," but that doesn't work. ~Author Unknown

Television is getting worse. We have access to nine hundred channels in our house and I still can't find anything to watch. It isn't just that the good shows are in reruns, it's that there wasn't much on to begin with. A few seasons ago we had The West Wing. I liked it a lot. It was good drama that entertained me and gave me something to think about. But even in it's final two seasons, it seemed to lose it's luster. Then we had Desperate Housewives, which was really fun until it got completely ridiculous. Then came Grey's Anatomy with it's gripping and complex relationships. A couple of years ago, Grey's broke my heart with the death of Denny Duquette. But this last season, the bloom dropped off the rose and I stopped caring about Izzy's angst, Merideth's nuttiness or McDreamy's disfunction. The only series I still loved to watch last season was "Big Love" and it isn't showing in reruns.

What happened to the days of intriguing summer replacements? Seems that all I see when I tune in these days are reality shows. Apart from watching American Idol and the occasional episode of the Apprentice or Project Runway Canada, I can't seem to get interested in reality TV. I've yet to see a single episode of The Bachelor, Big Brother or The Amazing Race.

I loved summer when I was a kid and I didn't look forward to the onset of fall and the return to school. But I did console myself with the knowledge that at least reruns would be over and I could get back to my beloved shows. Nowadays there are fewer episodes produced each year of all the shows and we're offered reruns for longer than we are offered new episodes in the regular season.

Maybe the next fall line up will bring us new treasures but I'm not counting on it.

Making Jacob's Bed

"College is the best time of your life. When else are your parents going to spend several thousand dollars a year just for you to go to a strange town and get drunk every night?" ~David Wood

Yesterday Jacob got his dorm assignment for September. He didn't get a room in the building he had hoped for but he did get a private room in the South Building at the University of Guelph. We saw the rooms in that residence when we toured the university in May. It will be fine. The rooms are pretty small but they are fairly new. He will share a bathroom with six other guys but that's better than the 1:25 ratio in some of the other dorms. The beds looked like they had prison mattresses on them so I will be buying a new mattress to bring on move in day. I've also ordered a small fridge for his room. Today I bought bedding.

I don't have the impression that Jacob cares all that much just what his dorm room looks like. His head is in the logistics of moving his computer and choosing a new laptop. Mine is into sheets, comforters, towels and creature comforts. I took great pains to choose bedding that I thought would work well for a university student - enough like what he has at home to be comfortable and different enough to show some adult style. He says it's fine. I looked at all the towels but ultimately didn't buy any. I thought maybe he would want something other than white but I was wrong. So tomorrow I will go back and pick up the very fluffy white towels I saw today.

The last time I spent so much effort in putting together Jacob's room, is when I was pregnant with him. I carefully chose his jungle wallpaper and the zebra comforter for his crib. I wanted him to be happy, to feel comfortable and secure. I guess I still do.

Many Small Steps

"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." - Neil Armstrong

Many people will be reaching back in their memories to recall where they were when the first manned spacecraft landed on the moon forty years ago today. I was in church so unlike most people in the western world, I only got to see Neil Armstrong take that step on reruns.

I went to Arizona that year to spend the summer with my Aunt Bea. I had just turned fourteen, an innocent girl with one year of high school under my belt and a heap of confidence in a bright future. I can recall wondering what other incredible things were coming to our world. After all, if scientists could put a man on the moon, just imagine the other things that would happen. Later that year, my Aunt Josie, to whom I was connected by love but not by blood, was diagnosed with breast cancer. In those days we didn't talk openly about breast cancer but a diagnosis was pretty much a death sentence. Nonetheless, I was confident. After all, if scientists could put a man on the moon, surely they could find a cure for breast cancer.

Sadly, Aunt Josie died. Some years later, breast cancer hit my family with a vengeance. First we lost Aunt Bea, then her sister Aunt Nora. A few years later, my sister Nancy was diagnosed, followed by my cousin Lana. Nancy and Lana would both face breast cancer again, but both have survived and thrived. Four years ago, I was diagnosed.

Last night, my friend Nancy Petersons called to talk about our participation in the 2009 Weekend to End Breast Cancer. The WTEBC is a 60 kilometer walk through the streets of Toronto to raise money for research and survivorship programs at the Princess Margaret Hospital. This is the event's seventh year in Toronto. I have walked it three times and worked at it three times. This year I will take a break from walking and will join Nancy, her husband Aivers, my sisters Cathy and Nancy and Cathy's daughter-in-law Kelly, on a crew team to support the 4,000+ women and men who will make the 60k walk. Crewing is hard work but for me, not quite as difficult as walking. My feet didn't heal for six months after last year's walk. Nonetheless, I plan to make the journey again in 2010 when Kelly's daughter Emily turns sixteen - the minimum age for a walker. I promised Emily I would take the journey with her.

Forty years later, breast cancer is still with us. But much has changed. More than 80 percent of people who are diagnosed with breast cancer, survive. Treatments are less radical and debilitating. We can, and do, speak openly about the disease and corporate sponsors have gotten on board and donated a lot of money for the research that will bring us to the ultimate finish line. But at a grassroots level, we also raised that research money a dollar at a time, at bake sales and jewelry parties, galas and walks, garage sales and lemonade stands. And in my little corner of the world, by working and walking at the Weekend to End Breast Cancer. I like to think it's many small steps for woman, one giant leap for womankind.

To learn more about the Weekend to End Breast Cancer, or to sponsor a participant, go to www.endcancer.ca.

Finding My Way

"As soon as possible, make a legal u-turn." - The Voice on My GPS

I'm directionally challenged. Okay, it's a little more than that. I never have a clue where I'm going. This afternoon I will head up to Cathy's lake house on Belmont Lake, just north of Havelock. I can get to Havelock easily enough but once I'm there, I already know I will struggle to find the house. I've been there a dozen times.

Merv has the best sense of direction of anyone I've ever known. Jacob inherited the trait from his father, thank God. A few years ago Merv bought me a portable GPS - one of the best presents ever. For years he told me when I got lost driving, to listen to my instincts - if my instincts told me to turn right, then I should turn left. Sad, but true. Then he bought the GPS. Jacob set the voice on it to a man with an English accent named Ken. Jacob thought it was funny for an English man to bark orders at me. When I bought my BMW last year, I got a built in GPS. The voice commands were preset. When I tell my car to do something like dial a phone number or change the radio station, I give the command to a man. When I get directions, I get them from a woman. For some reason, that amuses the heck out of me. I call the woman dwelling in my GPS, Buffy. The problem I will have today is that the lake house is on an unassumed road. Buffy won't know how to get me there. So even though I've been there a dozen times, and I will try to find my way, it is far more likely that I will have to phone the lake house and ask someone to talk me in. Very embarrassing but the reality of my life as a directionally challenged woman.

Savouring Summer

"Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world." ~Ada Louise Huxtable

I love summer. I love the feel of the sun on my skin. I love the smell of the flowers and trees. I love the taste of the fruit.

There is something about summer. It is as if the world turns down the volume, just a little. Even in the busiest and most high pressure times, it just seems easier to get through it in summer. Have to race for a business meeting - no need to clean the ice and snow from the car before you go. Have to cram a dozen errands into an hour - grab your purse and walk out the door - no coat, no boots, no hassle.

I've been listening to store clerks and friends grumble the past few weeks that we haven't really had warm weather this summer. It has yet to hit thirty degrees. Okay, I like the hot weather too but, so what. May I remind everyone that though, we've had quite a bit of rain, we don't have to shovel it. It is unseasonable to have temperatures of twenty-one or twenty-two degrees, but no winter coat is required. For that matter, no air conditioning is required either. It is perfect sleeping weather.

The fruit seems particularly wonderful this year - juicy black plums, the sweetest berries, the crispest rhubarb. And there is nothing quite like a burger from the barbeque, a delicious tomato salad or a fresh ear of corn. A lot to be said, too, for a frozen margarita on the back deck.

I love summer. The memory of the sun on my back can carries me through many a frigid winter morning.

The Company of Women

"The loneliest woman in the world is a woman without a close woman friend". - George Santayana -

Today I met four friends for a belated birthday lunch (mine). We five haven't worked together for more than seven years and I don't see them often. But I realized that no matter how much time passes, we are connected by a bond, not just of friendship, but of womanhood. We still speak in a kind of shorthand - keeping track of one another's triumphs and trials.

Tomorrow I will meet another set of women for a belated birthday dinner (mine again). What I thought was dinner with my friend Judy, has morphed through Judy's efforts, into a dinner with the mothers of the boys who make up Jacob's group of friends. What a terrific idea. For six years we have shared our children's triumphs and trials. These women watched out for my son through some tough times. They dropped food off to my door when I was sick. They drove Jacob around so I wouldn't have to worry about staying up late to pick him up. Knowing they were quietly in the background if needed, gave me a great deal of comfort in a difficult time. I like to think I've been helpful to them too. I've fed their kids and driven them around. I've nursed their boys through heartaches and listened to them pour out their fears. I've tried to make our home a soft place to land because I know that it is true for almost all teenagers - sometimes it's just easier to talk to someone who isn't your parent. And I did this with the absolute confidence that they will do the same for Jacob when he needs it. This will be the first time we have met as a group together without our children. I hope we'll make it a regular event.

Sometime this week I will also have dinner with my sisters and our friend Geraldine and her daughters who are grown. Another group to share a connection that only happens between women.

I'm having a good week.

Holding the Bag

"When women are depressed, they eat or go shopping. Men invade another country. It's a whole different way of thinking."
- Elayne Boosler -

Has anyone else noticed how much less fun shopping has become since Toronto introduced the new five cent plastic bag fee? Like most people, I've probably already spent a hundred dollars buying reusable bags. For some reason, I never seem to have them when I need them. I've either left them in the trunk of the car or in the kitchen after I've unpacked the groceries. The bags I've bought to carry non-grocery items seem to have legs. I have no idea where any of them have ended up.

Paying a nickel to buy a plastic bag isn't the biggest deal in the world but frankly it bugs me. If I'm grocery shopping without my reusable bags, I often have to deal with a cashier who will somehow find a way to express her disdain that I'm a polluter. All of a sudden, grocery shopping comes with a heaping helping of guilt. Most often, she will demand to know how many bags I want before I even put my groceries on the conveyor belt. "However many it takes" seems to be the wrong answer. Last week, one cashier refused to give sell me grocery bags for items she deemed large enough for me to carry individually, like a loaf of bread and a bag of frozen peas. I left the store with about twelve individual items that needed to be loaded into my trunk. Yesterday there was the cashier who didn't want to give my sister an extra bag because she had already completed ringing in her grocery order. I'm not sure how she thought the rest of Cathy's groceries were going to get transported and she didn't want to ring in a separate five cent charge for one more bag. Fortunately I was in line behind her and I had her additional bag charged to my account. The other thing I've noticed is that when we made the transition from provided bags to reusable or purchased bags, a lot of cashiers stopped packing the groceries. How did it suddenly become my responsibility to pack my groceries just because I've brought or am now paying for my own bags? If I wanted to pack my own groceries, I would shop at No Frills.

It's not just groceries either. I spent $600 dollars last month to buy Jacob a new suit. Turned out to be $600.05 because I had to pay the bag fee. I noticed Swiss Chalet added a bag fee when delivering my order the other day. Last weekend I made an unscheduled stop at Winners where I found a cute sequin tank top. I had a large purse with me, certainly big enough to house a tank top but I had to practically beg the cashier to put some tissue around it before I slipped it in my purse.

I'm really annoyed by the bag fee. But I'm also annoyed by the large retailers who haven't stepped up yet to provide paper shopping bags. When we were young, the options at the grocery store were paper bag or box. Department store shopping bags were paper bags with handles. There is no reason they can't be again. It is the stores that get to keep the money from bag fees. I certainly don't want to penalize small retailers but perhaps we should be looking at making large retailers step up to their responsibilities in providing environment friendly packaging.

Village Mom

"It takes a village to raise a child." - African Proverb -

Okay, we've already established that I like children. In fact, I like most children a lot more than I like many adults. What I'm finding hard to handle as I age, is bratty children. Running through stores, tugging at clothes on the rack, screaming, whining and using profanity are all behaviors I'm getting less good at tolerating.

I remember having a young child who, though basically well behaved, did have his moments. There was a day when Jacob was about two. He had a total meltdown in the grocery store. I took him out of the cart, pushed the cart to a corner and took Jacob home. I had to wait for Merv to get home to take over supervision of Jacob before I could return to the store, reclaim my cart and proceed with my shopping. I didn't take Jacob to the grocery store again for a very long time. Grocery shopping wasn't Jacob's thing and when forced to go, he reacted like an unhappy child. Fair enough. I didn't want to make him unhappy or inflict his out-of-control behavior on anyone else in the store. It was easier on Jacob, easier on me and easier on all the other shoppers in the store.

I can mostly cope with the tantrums of two-year-olds. I have a lot more trouble with six, seven and eight-year-olds. These children are certainly old enough to be able to behave better. It is not even really the kids that push my buttons, it is their parents who are somehow oblivious to the antics of their kids. They allow the behavior to carry on without intervention or notice. Do they really feel no obligation to help their children develop the basic social skills that will serve them well in the world? What happened to instilling the manners that help us all to function as a civilized society?

What has changed for me isn't just that my tolerance is waning but that my ability to stay quiet about misbehavior is changing. Lately I find myself telling badly behaved children (and even the occasional teenager) that their behavior is unacceptable. I've told them to quiet down, watch their language, stop running, stop hitting and even to "get a room" when they were doing heavy petting in a public place (that would be the teenagers). I've stopped caring if their seemingly oblivious parents are within earshot. Their apparent disregard for my comfort, safety and enjoyment have removed my concern about embarrassing them or hurting their parental feelings. I am the first to offer a hand to a frazzled mom or a parent who is working to deal with an unruly child. I don't judge them for the child's behavior or assume they are bad parents or even that they have bad children. Every child has his day. It is the parents who take no steps to intervene for whom I reserve my disdain.

There are those who tell me I need to mind my own business. That it is not my place to correct other people's kids. They may be right. For now though, I'm going with the African proverb and claiming my role as a mother in the global village.

All My Children

"Time and experience have taught me a priceless lesson: Any child you take for your own becomes your own if you give of yourself to that child."
- Dale Evans -

I've been thinking a lot about how my life will change when Jacob leaves for university this fall. I know most mothers experience some angst when their children leave home but I think it may be especially hard for those of us who have raised only children. There was a time when I fretted about Jacob being an only child. It wasn't our plan but it is the way it turned out. When he was small, I was often asked why I didn't have another. I still get asked sometimes. Over time I formulated my standard answer - God gave me one perfect child and no more. I do not question the wisdom of God.

In thinking about the days that are coming when Merv and I will be empty nesters, I've realized that what concerns me isn't just the absence of Jacob from our house. It is also the absence of the boys who Jacob has embraced as his brothers and we have embraced as our children. I love these boys. They fill my home most weekends. I feed them, clean up after them and drive them around. They share their hopes and fears, victories and heart breaks with me. They've given me the gift of their parents, some of whom have become part of my closest group of friends.

Like Jacob, most of the boys will be leaving Toronto to go to university in the fall. I expect their trips home will be all too infrequent for them to have much time to gather here. But I hope they will still find the time to be in touch with me. Only two of the boys will remain to study in Toronto and I've asked them to assure me they will still let me feed them from time-to-time. I'm hoping their mothers will insist that they do.

Jonathon, Wen-Hao, Robbie, John, Anthony and Sasha, please don't forget your other mother. I promise I won't forget you.

Defining My Legacy

"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work... I want to achieve it through not dying."

- Woody Allen -

The last couple of weeks have brought frequent news of celebrity passings and news of some non-celebrity deaths closer to home. I spent the morning at a funeral last week. Merv will spend the evening at another tonight. My sister lost a co-worker, the friend of a friend lost a son. More than a billion people watched the Michael Jackson memorial yesterday. Today the business oriented social media site, Linked-In, is filled with questions about how we would like to be remembered and what legacy we want to leave the world.

I actually gave this matter quite a lot of thought a few years ago when I attended the funeral of a friend's family member. The deceased woman's son gave a wonderful eulogy for his mom and it set me to thinking about what my son would say about me and what I want to be able to say to myself in the last days of my life. I got pretty clear about what I want others to say about me but it took a bit longer to really connect with the other part. Nothing like a cancer diagnosis to give me a bit more clarity around that one.

For myself, I want a life lived fully and richly. I've tended to think there was a lot of time to do the things I really want to do and see the things I really want to see. I'd still like to think that there are many years ahead, but the unexpected deaths of 50 year old celebrities makes me think maybe I should seize the moment just in case. (Note to self - start checking out airfare to Italy.)

As to what I want others to say about me, I go to the heart of what I value most - motherhood, family, friends and service. I want Jacob to say I did my best to give him the best. That he was well loved, and well-raised. I want my family and friends to say I had a warm and generous heart.

And somewhere, in some way, I want to leave my mark on the world. To know that I left it a better place on my way out than it was on my way in. I haven't quite figured that part out yet but I hope I have a lot of years to work on it.

R.I.P. Michael

“If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can be dealt with.”
- Michael Jackson -

Today much of the world will pause for a couple of hours to watch Michael Jackson's memorial service at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. Following the news in the days leading up to this event has been much like watching a three-ring circus. Farrah Fawcett died the same day as Michael. There was a lot of coverage of Farrah's battle in the days before her death but the actual event was overshadowed by the unexpected passing of Michael. It's pretty much been all Michael, all the time.

At the very least, it can be said that Michael lived an interesting life. The news has been filled with reports of prescription drug abuse, pedophilic sex scandals and financial troubles. We've heard every new detail of the battles over his estate and custody of his children. We've watched his "Thriller" video over and over again and reviewed the transformation of Michael's face from cherubic black child to brittle white man.

I don't know who the real Michael Jackson was but I will remember him as the beautiful boy who sang with his brothers on the Ed Sullivan show. I will celebrate the gift he gave us in co-writing "We Are The World" and I will sing loudly along with "Billie Jean" whenever it comes on the radio. Dance, music and pop culture will be forever changed by his legacy.

I believe that Michael came into the world loved. I'm certain he went out that way. And while dealing with the in-between part, he shared the gift of his genius with the world and we are the better for it. Rest in peace Michael.

Washing the Garbage

"New York City has finally hired women to pick up the garbage, which makes sense to me, since, as I've discovered, a good bit of being a woman consists of picking up garbage."
- Anna Quindlen -

We seem to spend an awful lot of time these days preparing our garbage. Everything gets carefully sorted into green garbage, regular garbage and recyclables. Massive bins inhabit our garages. Green garbage gets picked up just once a week now and regular garbage and recyclables get picked up every two weeks. Though in Toronto nothing is being picked up as we are in week three of a garbage strike. (Note to Mayor Miller - DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!) It seems like it wasn't that long ago when we just threw everything in a big garbage bag and put it at the curb twice a week.

I can respect the desire to protect our environment by practicing the three "Rs". I sometimes wonder though just how much energy we consume while trying to be green. For example, unless you are willing to put up with the stench and invite bugs and rodents, you can't just toss your recyclables into the bin. The only way to prevent the odor is to wash every can, bottle and styrofoam meat tray before it hits the bin. It can take quite a lot of time and water to wash the garbage.

A few months ago, our five-year-old refrigerator/freezer decided to quit. I always have a lot of food in my fridge as well as a packed freezer. I like to be prepared in the event an army drops by for dinner (and let's face it, I feed an army of Jacob's friends almost every weekend). I lost everything in the fridge and freezer. As if that wasn't bad enough, in order to dispose of all the spoiled food, I had to unpackage each item and separate it's components into the appropriate bin. Then I had to wash all the recyclables. It took me the best part of a day to get it all done. I will admit there were times that day when I considered getting a big garbage bag and just dumping it all in, but I resisted the temptation and plodded through.

I was pretty horrified to pick up the Toronto Star this past weekend and learn that much of the green garbage and recyclables we so carefully sort are in fact ending up in landfills along with the rest of the garbage. And the green garbage that is getting composted, isn't being properly sorted and so the compost is toxic to plant life. Could someone in the mayor's office explain that to me?

Perhaps it is time to rethink our garbage problems and go after the companies that over-package their goods. Maybe we could demand that those companies responsible for sorting the garbage after pick up, actually do their jobs. Or how about this - let's ask Mayor Miller to step up and be accountable for cleaning up the mess his administration has made. Wasn't he the candidate who ran around town brandishing a broom? The municipal elections will be here before we know it. Perhaps it is time for Torontonians to put out the garbage.

Connecting Around The World

"For a list of all the ways technology has failed to improve the quality of life, please press three."
- Alice Kahn -

Happy Sunday! I've been thinking about the wonders of technology today. We hear a lot about how technology has separated us and in many ways I think that is true. It used to drive me crazy when sitting at the office, I would get an e-mail from someone twenty feet away from my door instead of a phone call or a face to face dialogue. No doubt some people use e-mail as a way to avoid real dialogue. But today I'm focused on how e-mail brings us together.

My friends Brian and Gail are each on their own adventures in different parts of the world. Brian is in Israel on a business trip. As an on-air sports journalist and Canadian icon, Brian is enjoying an adventure few of us will ever have a chance to experience. But as the generous man he is, he has been e-mailing us with up-dates on what he is seeing and feeling. It has been wonderful to be a part of his great adventure. I can hardly wait to see pictures when he returns and to hear every detail. In days before the internet, I would have been a bit anxious about my friend being in the places Brian has ventured into but with our ability to communicate frequently and easily by e-mail, I have continual reassurance of his safety and well being.

Gail is on her own excellent adventure. For the next three weeks she will be going through her MBA orientation at Royal Roads University in Victoria. Gail and I have spent a lot of time together in the past year, and three weeks is a long time to be out of touch. But thanks to the wonders of e-mail I know that she arrived safely, what her dorm room looks like and what she had for breakfast. She will have a great time of learning and growth over these three weeks and I also know she will take me along with her.

Jacob's high school mentor is teaching in Uganda this summer. It has been thrilling to follow her adventure through her blog. Melody writes with a richness that makes me feel the Ugandan sun on my skin. It amazes me that she can share this experience as she has it, with me and so many others though she is in such a remote location. Thanks for sharing Melody.

As a consultant, I'm grateful everyday for the wonders of technology. My clients don't know if I'm sitting in my office, on a beach in Hawaii or on the deck in my backyard. In the main, I can work anywhere. And that is a great thing.

Enjoy this beautiful day.

Collecting Words

“We can learn much from wise words, little from wisecracks, and less from wise guys.” – William Arthur Ward

I’ve been collecting quotations and phrases for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I see something that inspires me, or makes me laugh or just tweaks my interest. I write it down on the back of an envelope, or a piece of scrap paper or I make a note of it in my blackberry. When I’m on vacation I keep a little notebook with me in case I see or hear something I want to remember.

A few weeks ago I was doing some work in a faith-based company. They had really cool office space. The walls of each office were glass and etched on each wall was a quotation. Their H.R. manager told me that when they moved into the space, the inhabitants of the offices were allowed to choose the quotations for their walls. There was much variety from many sources – Maya Angelou, Mother Theresa and The Bible, to name a few. My favourite one was a quote from Neil Young – “Nothing is perfect in God’s perfect plan”. That one sure got me thinking.

Last January, Merv and I spent a few days in Mexico. We had a Mayan tour guide to take us through Tulum. He told us quite a lot about Mayan culture and taught us a few Mayan words and phrases. My favourite was “Bishabel”. If you look it up on a translation site, it is translated as “How are you?” What it really means though is “How goes the road of your life?” He told us that highly enlightened ancient Mayans would put a stone on their foreheads between their eyes. The stone kept them from looking off to the sides and helped them to stay focused straight ahead on the road of their lives.

Last summer Merv and Jacob and I spent a week in Dublin. While we were there we visited Jameson’s Distillers. I didn’t care much for the whiskey (though I did have a pretty good Irish coffee there) but I loved the company motto “Sine Metu” which means “Without fear”. It was the motto on the Jameson family crest which was adopted as the company philosophy. The company has a colourful and interesting history and it would appear they really have acted in accordance with the motto and have thrived “Sine Metu”.

Have a wonderful Friday.

Life Savours - Not The Cherry Kind But Just as Sweet

Welcome to my new blog - a delightful birthday gift designed by Jacob and given to me by my dear friend Gail. A few weeks ago Gail let me know that she hired Jacob to design a blog for me to encourage me to begin writing again - something I haven't done for a few years. Gail did not know until recently, that at one time I wrote poetry, speeches and presentations often while soaking in the bathtub in the mornings, but it has been a long time. When Gail let me know about this blog, she did so because I needed to choose a name for it. Several years ago I wrote a speech for my Toastmasters group about those moments that make up my life that come unexpectedly but that are so sweet I like to bank them within myself so I can take them out and savour them again and again. I call them my Life Savour moments - not the cherry kind but just as sweet. So I chose "Life Savours" as my blog name.

Life Savour moments can come at any time. One of my favorites came on July 1, 1995 when we were celebrating both Canada Day and my fortieth birthday. Late in the evening after a great murder mystery birthday party, a few children gathered on the back deck at my sister Cathy's house to watch some Canada Day fireworks. Jacob wasn't quite four. While the fireworks lit up the sky, the children, unprompted by adults, decided to sing the national anthem. Their sweet voices brought me to tears. I've thought of the magic of that moment many times in the past fourteen years.

I don't know where this blog will take me but I hope to share more Life Savour moments with you over time and I hope you will share yours with me too. Thank you Gail. Thank you Jacob. You've both been a part of many of my Life Savour moments.