Pink--It was love at first sight

You know those moments that make you stop, halt any thought going through your mind, and your entire focus goes to what's happening. Those moments that make you either tear up, break down or laugh out loud. As we are driving through Nova Scotia today on our way to New Brunswick something catches my eye on the other side of the highway. Something beautiful, something almost surreal but something that holds so much promise. Coming from the other direction I saw pink, tons and tons of pink. You know the pink I am talking about, not 80's lipstick pink, not beautiful baby girl pink. This was "we are going to kick your ass cancer" pink. And the tears started. I looked in the rear view mirror to see if Destyni was awake, she had been sleeping for almost an hour. And as if she sensed something she raised her head. I pointed to the highway and together we watched in awe as 6 pink double-decker buses passed us. What a sight. I love seeing the autumn colors, love seeing the beautiful Rockies, or going back home to PEI and watching the sunset over the ocean but this image, this beautiful pink image just made my heart soar.

My family, not just my immediate family but my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and all spouses were affected by a loss this summer to cancer. There are many many words that float in my head when I think of the destruction that this disease leaves in its wake. But seeing those buses motoring down the highway, well it felt like someone had just slapped cancer in the face. It felt empowering.  So cancer....you may have won some fights but you are going to lose the war!!!

Sweet Memories

We cleaned our house today. Not just a regular cleaning, a get down on the floor scrub every nook and cranny cleaning. It was bittersweet. Yesterday morning we checked into the first of many hotels we are going to stay at in the next week. I am so excited to be moving, I love the thrill of a new place and all the new memories that we will share. But as I am cleaning my mind is replaying all of the memories that have happened in this house.

The kitchen reminds me of all the deep conversations that Scott and I shared as we cooked dinner together, the talks about our future and our dreams. Of telling each other about our work days or cute things our children have done. I love the slight touches as one of us reaches into the fridge as the other one is preparing vegetables at the counter. The sweet winks and stolen kisses as our children play around us. We have shared our dining room with so many friends and family. Dinner at our house is like taking a time out from the "real world". You sit, you talk, sip wine or water and just enjoy what's happening at that moment.
Walking upstairs I trail my fingers down the wall surrounding the kids bedrooms. I can see them playing in their rooms. Destyni laying belly down on her bed, designing clothes or making signs for all the doors in our house. Mommy and Daddy's Room, Patio This Way. What house has a sign on every door so you know exactly where you are going?
Jonathan kneeling on his floor in front of his bunk beds with all of his cars and trucks lined up on his bed. Racing them, bumping them together and making all of his car sounds. Or reading his books before bed, making up the story as he goes.
And Alyson's room. It wasn't used very much. She stayed with us in our room for weeks. But walking in her room you can still smell the sweet scent of baby laundry detergent. I love peeking over her crib and watching her sleep, so peaceful.

I know we will have these memories and more in our new home but it's still hard to walk away from a home that so many special things happened in. Our children grew up so much in that house, they became more independent. Scott and I shared so many dreams and conversations. It's just a bit hard to walk away. So we watch as our belongings are boxed up and packed into the moving truck. And inside those boxes, beside our clothes, toys and books lingers memories and stories. Our memories and stories.

Wasn't It Just Yesterday?

As Destyni's birthday approaches I can't help but replay a commercial in my head, over and over again. It's a Subaru commercial. The father is leaning over the passenger side window, his daughter who appears to be around four years old is sitting in the drivers seat. He is telling her to be careful, don't take the freeway, don't use her phone while driving. The camera flicks back to the four year old while dad is handing her the keys and now she's an adult. I feel cheated. I feel like the marketing committee stole into my thoughts, into my fears and made a commercial about it. It's like the committee took what I am most afraid of and blasted it from the TV when I was least expecting it.

My first born is going to be nine. Nine years old! What happened? Wasn't it just yesterday that my mother and I were at the hospital, I was getting ready to take Destyni home and we couldn't properly put her in her snowsuit? She was so tiny she kept slipping into one of the legs. It took us two hours to get it right. Wasn't it just yesterday that I slept in her room on her first night home from the hospital, waking up every time she took a deep breath? Wasn't it just yesterday that I held her in my arms, rocking her and watching the most magical snow fall from my patio windows, knowing then that I never really knew what falling in love was until I met Destyni.

Nobody told me that having a child would change my life so drastically, that everything I liked before was going to be mere memories to what I was going to love now. Going out for supper with friends, or debating on whose home we were going to go for drinks would be traded in for how many ounces should I put in a bottle, and how do I get over this crazed obsession of just staring into my daughters eyes and knowing the feeling of utter completeness. Wasn't that just yesterday?

You could only imagine my panic when my daughter comes walking into the living room asking me if she can go across the street to play at the park with her friends. My mind is telling me to let her go, she has proved herself to be so responsible. She knows how to properly cross the road, knows she is not to talk to strangers, knows how to defend herself. But my heart is screaming in protest. No, Destyni you absolutely cannot go to the park. How are my arms suppose to reach all the way over to the park to hug and  protect you? How am I suppose to kiss your pain better if you fall off the monkey bars? How am I going to give you the words to use when you are upset and want to explain yourself? So no Destyni, you can't go to the park, but you can go to your room and nap because in my heart you are my little girl. And Destyni if I let you go to the park with your friends, then I have to let you go for bike rides with them as well. And I will have to agree to letting you rush out the door for sleepovers. And I will have to let you learn from your own mistakes, and let you get hurt. And I will have to let you go to the movies, and take my car out when you get your license, and I will have to let you go on a date. And watch your heart get broken. And graduate high school, and go to university. My mouth says yes...my heart says no.

As I watch her run outside, watch her hair blow in the wind the sun kissing her beautiful tan skin she turns around and catches my eye. She waves and mouths "I love you Mom." and I understand that I can't stop her from growing up but I will be there with her on her journey. So I'll take that and be content, because I know that there will always be mouthed "I love you's".

Strength and then some...

I always find it amazing to hear about events that have happened in people's lives and how they pulled through. What kind of strength they would need to wake up everyday and smile. Not just the smile you put on your face when someone pulls out a camera. The kind of smile that starts deep within, and reaches out to others. Everyone has a story to tell, but this one is very close to my heart.

In my dream the phone was ringing, it was one of those times when you have to drag yourself out of sleep to see if the phone was actually ringing in your dream or in reality. I remember opening my eyes, looking over at Scott who hadn't budged and thought it was definitely in my dream. But as I sat there being a bit miffed that I was awake and it was still dark outside the phone rang again. Panic...my phone was ringing, it was still dark outside and our whole house was still sleeping. I remember jumping out of bed and grabbing the cordless off the desk and answering it. But of course I had just missed the call. I punched the caller ID button, secretly praying that the number I was going to look at was not one I recognized. Not so lucky...it was my sisters cell phone number. My baby sisters cell phone number. My sister who was young enough to still party, had no kids of her own and the person I feel the need to most protect after my own children. I remember the whirlwind of emotion that I felt, colors all blended together. I remember waking up Scott while furiously getting dressed. I called the number back, numbing myself for what I might hear on the other end. My mothers voice.

"Hi Chris" (I swear she only uses half my name when she's purposely trying to calm me down. Mom knows that if she doesn't use my full name my brain will automatically go to casual mode.) "Don't panic, nothing is wrong. Natasha hurt her arm but she's okay. We are just at the hospital waiting for the results to come back"

There were so many mistakes in that conversation. Mom always tries to be the rock, the person who will speak in a calm voice when situations get crazy. And Mom has needed to give my sisters and I  more bad news than any mother should ever have to give. So right from the beginning she uses my childhood name, to induce calmness. But she made a mistake, she used Tasha's full name. I called a party that my sister was at one night, asked for Natasha and I was bluntly told that there wasn't anybody there with that name. I bet half of Tasha's friends don't even know her real name is Natasha.

Needless to say I hear "Natasha" and I am in hospital mode. Dressed, face washed, teeth brushed and running out the door with brief instructions to Scott about the three birthday parties that Destyni is suppose to attend that day. I rushed to the car, heading to our older sisters home. Mom wasn't able to reach her. It's very common that Tina sleeps with her ringer off, she works night shifts and needs her sleep.  Tina and I arrived at the hospital and went into the area where Tasha was. I don't remember where the area was, it was one of those times when everything blurs around you and you are focused on one thing. How bad is it?

Tasha was laying in bed smiling. Her arm was in a sling but she was smiling. Relief flooded through my body. It's funny because when you see someone smiling you think they can't be hurt, right? The results came back.  All of the damages were done under the skin. Her arm was broken in several places, her elbow was no longer an elbow and she needed surgery immediately. There was a lot of details in those few weeks that are important but my focus was Tasha pulling through, and how the people in her life cared so much for her.

Tasha's life changed in seconds. Not knowing that as soon as she arrived at the hospital she was going to be a different person, inside and out. The pain was intense for her, the bruising was scary, the swelling was so huge that it looked unreal. The love around her was unmistakable. The things that I personally remember from that time was her friends coming into visit her. My aunt dropping in everyday she could to see how Tasha was doing. Tina washing Tasha's hair for her. Mom being there everyday, watching her youngest in so much pain.

But the memories that I remember the most, the memories that touch my heart and soul so deeply. Tasha's strength, her courage, her refusal to give up. She was suppose to be moving into her own place the weekend she was hurt, she had to live at home because she needed so much help from my parents. She had just graduated as an LPN, she walked into the hospital the morning of the injury as a nurse and walked out never being able to do that again. The pain she went through. Physical therapy that made her literally sick to her stomach, not being able to drive, or sleep her normal way, or not being able to jump into the shower without having to wrap her arm in plastic. Or not being able to use her left arm for anything. Having to regain the muscle use. Having a scar that runs up her entire arm.
Not once do I remember her complaining. I am humble at her amount of bravery. At her inner strength to keep on going, to wake up everyday and let the world see that beautiful smile. I love you Tasha and there aren't enough words to tell you how proud you make me!!! ...xxoo

Plans, Plans, Plans

I had a plan...once. A long time ago. In no particular order it went:  fall in love, get married, have children, find a career, and plant roots. That was the plan, years ago. I think the correct word used to describe what I wanted was "normal". The one word in the English language that should not have a definition. It should be defined by the person using it, never by a standard answer. I never imagined that I wouldn't be living on PEI for the rest of my life. Moving away was not even on my radar.

At the time I met Scott he wasn't in the Military, so planning our lives together didn't include moving away from home. Home...another word used casually. Things change, in the blink of an eye. Scott re-joined the Army and my perception of normal floated away. Shortly into 2007 we moved away to Oromocto NB. Then we were posted to Greenwood NS. Now we are leaving to go to Borden ON, and before we even start packing we already know that our stay their is limited. Scary? Not even for a second. I love the thrill of a new place, new people, new adventures. This will be the third time that I won't see the house I am going to live in before we move in. Scott picks out the houses and I see them days before the moving company starts loading our things in. I have learned that it is never what a house looks like or how big it is that makes a house a home. A home truly is where the heart is.

Now, it wouldn't bother me where we lived. Scott and I will talk for hours about the pros and cons of all the bases across Canada and even the world. We would move anywhere just for the experience. Why not? It's not like you get a do over in life, it's a one shot deal.

Our Birthday Boy

It's so hard to believe that today is our youngest son's birthday!!! Today we explained to him that he is no longer three, now he's four. We love to celebrate birthday's in our household, it's that one special day of the year that is all about you and just you. But honestly, my children's birthday's are one of the hardest days for me. It's always so bittersweet. I love that they are growing up, becoming more independent and learning new skills. On the other hand they are growing up. That statement always seems to feel surreal at the end of the celebration.
On each birthday I look at the clock every few minutes wondering what I was doing on the day that they arrived. I remember what it was like to hold their tiny little bodies and look into their eyes, falling in love with them over and over again.
Jonathan is an amazing child...an amazing four year old. He was my second pregnancy and being pregnant with him was nothing like the first time. After carrying three children I am sold on the fact that you can get an impression of their personality before they are born. Jonathan was active, he kicked for hours on end. He moved constantly and kept me up for hours during the night. And this was all before he was born. His due date was the 14th of  October, which would have been a Saturday. Which makes the day before Friday the 13th. And of course that was the day he was born. Ever since that day Scott and I knew that he would always beat adversity. We knew that this child of ours had a plan and we were their to guide him on his way, not to show him the way. He was born knowing his way. Jonathan always knows what he wants, even at this tender age, he knows. He has more energy than I can handle on a good day, he just goes and goes and goes. I have heard from other moms that this is a boy thing, and I wouldn't change it for the world. Jonathan does things on his own time, and only when he's ready. He walked at a later age, he spoke at a later age. This was something new to me because Destyni did everything either right on time or before her age. What an amazing experience though. Just because a text book says children should walk at this age, why should they  have to? I have learned that a child will do anything when he or she is ready and not a second before.

So Jonathan, my sweet, sweet youngest son, thank you for coming into my life. And please don't grow up too fast...xxoo

For Jenn..xxoo

My best girlfriend brought to my attention that I should start blogging again. She mentioned that she loves to read blogs, and since we don't live as close to our family anymore I decided she had a great point. So Jenn, this is for you, and anybody else who would like a look into my life. It's definitely a roller coaster =)

To start this off, I am a mom. And yes I am one of those people who could talk for hours about my kids. Which I do, but maybe not tonight. Tonight I will try to focus on who I am...although I spend hours trying to figure out the same thing so this may not go as planned=)

As I stated above my life is a roller coaster...I am the type of girl (yes oddly enough I still refer to myself as a girl) that will always fall on an ice patch going into a store...but it has to be a huge store, and it has to be during the Christmas rush. In fairness lets say the Friday before Christmas, and the parking lot has to be filled with cars, mostly vans. Vans that are jammed pack filled with kids, and their fathers (mothers are doing the shopping) who are trying to catch three minutes of sleep while his 17 kids are in the back fighting...that is until they see me wipe out. Entertainment at its best. Things like that always happen. You would think that after living like this for most of my life I would get accustomed to the embarrassing moments. NOPE! My sister and her husband were kind enough to send over a DVD copy of their wedding reception. I haven't had the courage to watch it yet because I know that as soon as my speech finishes and I go to walk up the four steps to the head table I wipe out. They have been married for 3 years!!!

On the other hand though I couldn't be luckier...odd as it may sound.  Four beautiful children, my  husband is my best friend, I have an amazing family and I couldn't ask for better friends. So I guess the way I look at it, the falling down in public places and having my dress come up over my head, or turning very quickly when someone called my name only to smash into an iron pole and knock myself out...if that's the debt that I have to pay to have what I have than I will gladly do it over again. Well maybe not the dress coming over my head, that one still gives me nightmares =)