Some of you may have read Michele's blog over at the laundromat. I must tell you all that I did not read her "I'm From" entry before I wrote mine. When I read hers, I was amazed to see how alike they were.
Well, she is my sister (the one whose life I saved by my screams) and we are similar in many ways. I think it's cool that we are from the same place.
Friday, April 28, 2006
I Am From...
I read Heather's essay and thought it would be fun to do my own.
I am from a shiny blue bike with flowing ribbons and a plastic handlebar carrier. I am from rattling old Ford Trucks that smelled of electrical tape, WD 40, and chicken barns.
I am from the big brick house on Ontario Street with a back kitchen, sloping floors and draughty windows. I am from Saturday renovations, falling plaster and “I can’t stand living in this mess anymore” cries from my mother.
I am from the heart of the Niagara fruit belt. From glorious, fragrant Blossom Sundays to chilly Thanksgiving Mondays. I am from dusty roads and hot, muggy summers. From the cool and quiet of the Bruce Trail on humid afternoons and Kinsmen Pool and family drives out to the country. I am from flying down Mountain Street at crazy speeds and always grateful that I
didn’t fall.
I am from birthday presents in the early morning, Sunday afternoon fires in the living room and silly April Fool’s jokes. I am from Berendina Heremina and Arend Jan, Lina Wilhelmina and Englebertus, Johanna and Johannes. I am from Wikkerink, Hoornenborg, TeBrake, Bierman.
I am from heavy smokers and big eaters. I am from lovers of good food, Dutch chocolate and homemade wine. I am from relaxing Sunday dinners, chili on Friday nights and Saturday night hamburgers. I am from jam making, vegetable freezing and fruit canning. I am from the first family on the block to own a gas barbeque.
I am from chasing birds with a salt shaker and saving a family of baby squirrels. I am from the cottage and "dadmade" motorhomes. I am from Florida at Christmas time, from tent trailers and Walt Disney World and freshly squeezed orange juice.
I am from going to church twice on Sunday, from hard pews and singing harmony. From church organs and out-of-tune pianos. I am from the church with a hole where the bell should be. I am from waking up to the sound of the church bell next door and watching the beautiful, blushing brides on Saturdays. Peering from behind the curtain in the dining room, dreaming of the day it would be my turn.
I'm from Holland where life was hard for my parents and grandparents but became harder still with the WWII occupation. I am from a grandfather who died as a result of “friendly fire” to Oom Henk who never stepped foot in Germany even though the border was so close he could spit into it. I am from a mother and father who left their country of birth, knowing that they would never live there again. I am from the Queen of Holland who visited my uncle in his home and used his toilet.
I am from the family whose dad was in the Lions club, the family who owned the only Laundromat in town. The father who “picked up” a swimming pool “for a song” and supplied us with shovels to start digging. I am from red clay soil and mosquito bites. I am from the mother who got mumps when she was 35 and slammed her finger in a car door when she was 38. I am from the father who had a snow laden tent trailer fall onto his head just before leaving on our vacation. I am from busy Ontario Street where my hysterical scream saved my sister’s life.
I am from shoe boxes filled with pictures, a crazy poodle and pretty birds. I am from green shag carpeting and macramé light fixtures, orange flooring and a lime green kitchen, a freezing toilet and an uninhabitable rec room. I am from the back room, full of junky memories.
I am from the growing shade of the maple tree in the backyard, the smell of freshly mown grass and weedy gardens. I am from the parade route in town and the veranda at the front of the house. I am from love and tolerance, pride and prejudice. I am from many who have gone before me. I am a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother.
I am from all of these things. I am me.
I am from a shiny blue bike with flowing ribbons and a plastic handlebar carrier. I am from rattling old Ford Trucks that smelled of electrical tape, WD 40, and chicken barns.
I am from the big brick house on Ontario Street with a back kitchen, sloping floors and draughty windows. I am from Saturday renovations, falling plaster and “I can’t stand living in this mess anymore” cries from my mother.
I am from the heart of the Niagara fruit belt. From glorious, fragrant Blossom Sundays to chilly Thanksgiving Mondays. I am from dusty roads and hot, muggy summers. From the cool and quiet of the Bruce Trail on humid afternoons and Kinsmen Pool and family drives out to the country. I am from flying down Mountain Street at crazy speeds and always grateful that I
didn’t fall.
I am from birthday presents in the early morning, Sunday afternoon fires in the living room and silly April Fool’s jokes. I am from Berendina Heremina and Arend Jan, Lina Wilhelmina and Englebertus, Johanna and Johannes. I am from Wikkerink, Hoornenborg, TeBrake, Bierman.
I am from heavy smokers and big eaters. I am from lovers of good food, Dutch chocolate and homemade wine. I am from relaxing Sunday dinners, chili on Friday nights and Saturday night hamburgers. I am from jam making, vegetable freezing and fruit canning. I am from the first family on the block to own a gas barbeque.
I am from chasing birds with a salt shaker and saving a family of baby squirrels. I am from the cottage and "dadmade" motorhomes. I am from Florida at Christmas time, from tent trailers and Walt Disney World and freshly squeezed orange juice.
I am from going to church twice on Sunday, from hard pews and singing harmony. From church organs and out-of-tune pianos. I am from the church with a hole where the bell should be. I am from waking up to the sound of the church bell next door and watching the beautiful, blushing brides on Saturdays. Peering from behind the curtain in the dining room, dreaming of the day it would be my turn.
I'm from Holland where life was hard for my parents and grandparents but became harder still with the WWII occupation. I am from a grandfather who died as a result of “friendly fire” to Oom Henk who never stepped foot in Germany even though the border was so close he could spit into it. I am from a mother and father who left their country of birth, knowing that they would never live there again. I am from the Queen of Holland who visited my uncle in his home and used his toilet.
I am from the family whose dad was in the Lions club, the family who owned the only Laundromat in town. The father who “picked up” a swimming pool “for a song” and supplied us with shovels to start digging. I am from red clay soil and mosquito bites. I am from the mother who got mumps when she was 35 and slammed her finger in a car door when she was 38. I am from the father who had a snow laden tent trailer fall onto his head just before leaving on our vacation. I am from busy Ontario Street where my hysterical scream saved my sister’s life.
I am from shoe boxes filled with pictures, a crazy poodle and pretty birds. I am from green shag carpeting and macramé light fixtures, orange flooring and a lime green kitchen, a freezing toilet and an uninhabitable rec room. I am from the back room, full of junky memories.
I am from the growing shade of the maple tree in the backyard, the smell of freshly mown grass and weedy gardens. I am from the parade route in town and the veranda at the front of the house. I am from love and tolerance, pride and prejudice. I am from many who have gone before me. I am a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother.
I am from all of these things. I am me.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Happy Birthday Carolyn
In honour of Carolyn, my daughter-in-law.
there was no morning sickness
no stretch marks
or varicose veins
no pain of labour
or ecstasy of birth
no episiotomy
or prenatal depression
but as surely as ben is my son
and by virtue of your love for him
you are my daughter
when i look into the mirror
i see all of my children
the furrows on my forehead
the laugh lines around my mouth
the greying hair
and i see you
in the small diamond i wear in my ear
the diamond
your birthstone
that will remain there
in sickness and in health
until death do us part
there was no morning sickness
no stretch marks
or varicose veins
no pain of labour
or ecstasy of birth
no episiotomy
or prenatal depression
but as surely as ben is my son
and by virtue of your love for him
you are my daughter
when i look into the mirror
i see all of my children
the furrows on my forehead
the laugh lines around my mouth
the greying hair
and i see you
in the small diamond i wear in my ear
the diamond
your birthstone
that will remain there
in sickness and in health
until death do us part
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Friday, April 14, 2006
Happy Anniversary to Me!
As of yesterday, April 13, I have been a blogger for one year. I must thank Heather for putting the idea into my head.
It's been fun getting to know some of you by reading your blogs and receiving your comments. As I read through my year of blogs I realized that this has been a great way for me to record my thoughts and responses to what's happening in the world around me. I think it will be really good to read this blog when I'm 80, to remind myself how I've grown (and stayed the same).
Unlike my journal which has stuff in it that I would not want anyone to read, I have been able to share some of my journey through blogger.com. It has been personal and goofy; painful and (dare I say?) profound at times. It has helped me to focus my thoughts in a way that writing in my journal does not.
It's been a great trip and I intend to continue this part of my journey.
It's been fun getting to know some of you by reading your blogs and receiving your comments. As I read through my year of blogs I realized that this has been a great way for me to record my thoughts and responses to what's happening in the world around me. I think it will be really good to read this blog when I'm 80, to remind myself how I've grown (and stayed the same).
Unlike my journal which has stuff in it that I would not want anyone to read, I have been able to share some of my journey through blogger.com. It has been personal and goofy; painful and (dare I say?) profound at times. It has helped me to focus my thoughts in a way that writing in my journal does not.
It's been a great trip and I intend to continue this part of my journey.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
A Solution of Sorts
Sammy is unfortunately, not afraid of the 1.21 m. Picta Dieffenbacia. It actually looks pretty good up there on the landing so I think I’ll keep it. The following photo shows you our solution to Sammy’s sneaking upstairs. I wish I had thought of this earlier because it would have saved me some money and a trip to WalMart.
You may see that there is a spindle missing on the back of the chair. Tim seems to have miscalculated the distance between the 5th step of the stairway and the floor.
The shin is healing nicely and the spindle has been added to the "things to do" pile.
My Springtime Garden
I planted a perennial garden last fall. I couldn't wait to see what it would look like in the spring so I was just thrilled when I came back from Florida a week ago to see the snow melted away. I am absolutely amazed to see new growth just after the freezing temperatures of the winter. It reminds me of the promise God made to Noah and his family after the flood:
"As long as the earth endures,
seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat,
summer and winter,
day and night
will never cease."
-Genesis 8:22
My new garden is coming up nicely as you can see.
"As long as the earth endures,
seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat,
summer and winter,
day and night
will never cease."
-Genesis 8:22
My new garden is coming up nicely as you can see.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
There's Always a Bright Side
In my last post I mentioned that Kristen got sick during our vacation. We had passes to Disney and wanted to take advantage of them so even though she wasn't feeling good, we went to the Magic Kingdom where we rented a wheelchair for her. That was the best thing we did because it allowed her to enjoy the day with us and it got us into the attractions, without having to wait in line!
Sick and Tired
It usually happens at night, when I'm asleep. I hear a knock on my bedroom door and a whispered, "Mom?" I know what's coming. This has been happening for 3 years.
I get up and ask her if it's pretty bad and she just nods. We go into the spare bedroom and open the window wide (even if it's -30 outside) because the cold air feels good on her face. I get some Gravol, a glass of water and the book we're reading and I settle down beside her. On a good night, I can go back to bed within an hour. Other nights it can last longer than two.
When I became a parent, I knew interrupted sleep was part of the deal. While I expected to be awakened regularly with young children, I didn't think it would be an issue with a 17 year old.
I remember the day 3 years ago when it all started. It was Easter Sunday and I figured that she had eaten too much candy. But the nausea and dizziness continued for several days so I took her to the doctor. She had a bladder infection so antibiotics were prescribed and I thought she'd be back to her old self in a few days. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of visits to doctors, specialists, internet searches and sleepless nights.
I am blogging about this because we are at our wit's end. We cannot figure out what is wrong with Kristen. Three years ago it was so bad that she didn't write most of her exams in Grade 9. She couldn't read without becoming dizzy and then the nausea would set in. I studied with her and that worked well but writing the exam would take all of her energy for the day and she'd spend hours in bed. For most of the summer of 2003, she hung around, had little energy and very little appetite. She lost weight and the sparkle in her eyes disappeared.
By September, she seemed to get a lot of her energy back and we thought that whatever it was, she had recovered. We thought that maybe, she had just pushed herself too hard that year and her body was simply rebelling.
For the next few years things weren't too bad except for weekly or bi-weekly episodes which usually happened at night, where she would experience nausea and dizziness. I would call these attacks because she would also get really anxious and kind of panicky. After several hours she would settle down and while the next day was hard for her, she usually recovered.
Last week, while we were on holidays, she got sick again-just like three years ago. She has eaten very little in the last few days and has actually lost some weight. Her energy level is extremely low and today is her first full day back at school. We went to the doctor who diagnosed her with Irritable Bowel Syndrome although I do not believe that is a proper diagnosis. She has none of the other symptoms (cramps, diarrhea) and the attacks do not seem to be linked to food in any way.
Is there anyone out in blog land who has experienced something like this? Can you give me some advice? Do you know of anyone else who has similar symptoms? We are so tired of dealing with this. It is heartbreaking to see her this way. She is finishing Grade 12 and has projects and exams to deal with now. She is planning to work next year, before she starts university but the way things are now, she will not be able to do that either.
I suspect that it is related to stress. I made an appointment with a naturopath, we have already done the psychologist thing and my doctor doesn't seem to have the time to sit down with us and figure this out. Gravol is about the only thing that she consumes these days along with bananas, yogurt and an occasional piece of toast.
It’s not Celiac’s, lactose intolerance, crohn’s or colitis. Contrary to my doctor’s diagnosis, I don’t think it’s IBS. She’s had blood tests (it’s not Mono) but it’s something and we’ve got to figure it out.
So my blogger friends and anyone else who reads this, I’d appreciate some advice. In the meantime, we’ll just try to get through this and I’ll keep you all posted.
I get up and ask her if it's pretty bad and she just nods. We go into the spare bedroom and open the window wide (even if it's -30 outside) because the cold air feels good on her face. I get some Gravol, a glass of water and the book we're reading and I settle down beside her. On a good night, I can go back to bed within an hour. Other nights it can last longer than two.
When I became a parent, I knew interrupted sleep was part of the deal. While I expected to be awakened regularly with young children, I didn't think it would be an issue with a 17 year old.
I remember the day 3 years ago when it all started. It was Easter Sunday and I figured that she had eaten too much candy. But the nausea and dizziness continued for several days so I took her to the doctor. She had a bladder infection so antibiotics were prescribed and I thought she'd be back to her old self in a few days. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of visits to doctors, specialists, internet searches and sleepless nights.
I am blogging about this because we are at our wit's end. We cannot figure out what is wrong with Kristen. Three years ago it was so bad that she didn't write most of her exams in Grade 9. She couldn't read without becoming dizzy and then the nausea would set in. I studied with her and that worked well but writing the exam would take all of her energy for the day and she'd spend hours in bed. For most of the summer of 2003, she hung around, had little energy and very little appetite. She lost weight and the sparkle in her eyes disappeared.
By September, she seemed to get a lot of her energy back and we thought that whatever it was, she had recovered. We thought that maybe, she had just pushed herself too hard that year and her body was simply rebelling.
For the next few years things weren't too bad except for weekly or bi-weekly episodes which usually happened at night, where she would experience nausea and dizziness. I would call these attacks because she would also get really anxious and kind of panicky. After several hours she would settle down and while the next day was hard for her, she usually recovered.
Last week, while we were on holidays, she got sick again-just like three years ago. She has eaten very little in the last few days and has actually lost some weight. Her energy level is extremely low and today is her first full day back at school. We went to the doctor who diagnosed her with Irritable Bowel Syndrome although I do not believe that is a proper diagnosis. She has none of the other symptoms (cramps, diarrhea) and the attacks do not seem to be linked to food in any way.
Is there anyone out in blog land who has experienced something like this? Can you give me some advice? Do you know of anyone else who has similar symptoms? We are so tired of dealing with this. It is heartbreaking to see her this way. She is finishing Grade 12 and has projects and exams to deal with now. She is planning to work next year, before she starts university but the way things are now, she will not be able to do that either.
I suspect that it is related to stress. I made an appointment with a naturopath, we have already done the psychologist thing and my doctor doesn't seem to have the time to sit down with us and figure this out. Gravol is about the only thing that she consumes these days along with bananas, yogurt and an occasional piece of toast.
It’s not Celiac’s, lactose intolerance, crohn’s or colitis. Contrary to my doctor’s diagnosis, I don’t think it’s IBS. She’s had blood tests (it’s not Mono) but it’s something and we’ve got to figure it out.
So my blogger friends and anyone else who reads this, I’d appreciate some advice. In the meantime, we’ll just try to get through this and I’ll keep you all posted.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
There's No Place Like Home
Guess where I've been for the last 10 days? Even though you may have never been to Orlando, Florida, you probably recognize the castle in the picture. Yep. That's right. We spent several memorable days at Walt Disney World. The weather was gorgeous, the grass was green and the sun shone down upon us every day. We had a wonderful time.
I must confess, it was hard to leave the warmth and sunshine and come home to Winnipeg. I was thrilled to see that so much of the snow had melted while we were gone and even more pleased to see this:
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