Lost Things

Okay. Where's my map book? You know, the one that says "Don't take this out of the car OR ELSE!"

Maybe I need to invent a map book that will begin to self destruct as soon as it leaves the confines of my car.

Cute Kid Quip

My friend Heather frequently has "cute kid quips" on her blog. My kids are past the cute quip stage but I have to share a great word with you that both Ben and Eric used in their pre-kindergarten years. Can you guess what this is?

Cokesappeley

The Things That Wake Us Up

I was wide awake yesterday morning at 4:00. Sheesh! What's with that? When I was younger, I could sleep all night, every night. As I age, I find my sleep is interrupted far too frequently. I don't know why I wake up most of the times but when I do, sleep often eludes me and I end up feeling pretty tired the next day. This morning as I was lying in bed, I was reminded of another night a number of years ago, when I was roused in the middle of the night. This time however, was a little different.

It was about 3 o'clock in the morning and I was awakened from a deep sleep with the sound of a distant fire truck siren. As I waited, the siren got louder and louder until I realized that it was coming right into our sub division. Moments later, I could see the flashing lights through the curtains and the deep diesel engine sound of the truck. I was trying to decide if I should get out of bed to find out which house was burning when suddenly I heard a loud banging at the door and realized that the truck wasn't moving. They were at MY house!

I made it down the stairs in record time and reached the front door, swinging it wide open only to see one of the firefighters climbing back into the truck. He must have heard something because he looked back at me, and said with a smile, "Sorry! Wrong house!" And all the firefighters left, grinning and waving at me.

I don't know where they ended up that night. I suppose it was a false alarm because I didn't hear or see anything amiss the next day.

Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep after that!

Going to the Mall

Going to the mall with Kristen is both "the best of times" (for her), and "the worst of times" (for me). Kristen loves the mall. I hate it. But strangely enough it is a place where we really can have some fun together. We tend to like the same things. We mostly disagree on sizes and how long or short a skirt or pair of shorts really is. Her perception of "mid thigh" varies substantially from mine.

When she was younger, I worried about her sense of style or lack of it. She didn't seem to care what she wore as long as it was comfortable. Then, seeemingly overnight, she started caring. And I remember the first time we shopped together after that. It was awful. She'd come out of the change room and the conversation would go something like this:

Me: Isn't that a little small?
Kristen: No. It fits (translation-I got it on didn't I?)
Me: Let me find a larger size.
Kristen: Big sigh, rolling of eyes
Me: Pleeeease, just for me, can you try on the larger size?
Kristen: Okay (translation-I'll try it on just to humour you but I already know which size I'm going to get)

We were having a terrible time. She'd come out of the change room looking beautiful and with a body that I could only dream of, wearing clothes that showed-curves! I wanted to get a blanket or at least a large sweat shirt to cover her up.

It was at that moment that I had an epiphany of sorts. My little girl was turning into a woman and I wasn't ready for it. I don't think that it was the style of clothing that was bothering me as much as the fact that she was growing up. I had already begun to notice the looks when we walked together. It wasn't me they were staring at but this beauty who was walking beside me.

For most of my life I have had a rather poor image of my body. I knew this before I had children and my prayer always has been that I don't pass that unhealthy attitude on to them. And for the most part, I believe I haven't. That day at the mall I realized that I tend to wear baggy clothes so that I can hide. Kristen on the other hand, feels pretty comfortable in her skin and does not feel a need to do the same. I also realized that I wanted to protect her from leering eyes. While I can appreciate the beautiful body of a young teen, I don't want any creep using my daughter or any other woman or child as an object to fulfill his fantasies.

I can't always be there to protect her and to take care of her. She has made it pretty clear that she doesn't want me to do that. All I can do is pray that God will guide her and that the lessons she has learned in her 16 years will help her to make good choices and wise decisions.

We don't go to the mall too often anymore. She usually goes with her friends. I kind of miss those times so maybe I'll suggest a trip out there one of these days. I'll have to prepare myself for the trip (see #83 of May 20 blog).

And I hear that the fashion gods are designing longer shirts and baggier pants. One can only hope.

Quote of the Day

"Forgiveness means abandoning your right to pay back the perpetrator in his own kind. It is a loss that liberates the victim."

-Desmond Tutu

Empty Nest

Saturday was an empty nest kind of a day.

I remember dreaming about having days like this when my kids were young. Back then, Saturdays and Sundays were full of cleaning, driving, playing, biking, swimming, play dates...Those were exhausting times. When the kids were really young, Wes and I would often find ourselves doing the dishes and laundry at 10:00 at night after they had all been put to bed.

On Saturday, I had the very kind of day that I used to dream about. Kristen was at a friend's house for much of the weekend. Tim was at his cousin's place all afternoon and as my sister fed him, I didn't need to worry about him. I went to my 12 step meeting (a highlight of my week) in the morning while Wes got groceries. During the afternoon, I read for a while, spent a few minutes with Ben, checked my email and made a few phone calls.

It seems to have happened overnight. My kids don't need me like they used to. Now, they need my car or my money for gas. They want to have parties where I can supply the junk food and the movies but they don't need me to provide the entertainment anymore. They ask for advice on occasion but don't necessarily take it. They can do their own laundry, cook their own dinner and put themselves to bed.

From the time our children are born we begin to teach them independence. We begin to prepare them for the day they move out. But how do we as parents prepare ourselves for the day they no longer need us? It seems to happen so fast. I'm not yet at the empty nest stage as Tim and Kristen will both be at home for a while yet but I am getting a taste of what it might be like. Will Wes and I be able to reconnect as a couple like we did before children? Apparently it happens that couples who have been married for more than 25 years will divorce because they have nothing in common after the children have left. Will we dread evenings and weekends because there are no volleyball games to watch, essays to edit or rides to juggle? Will life become boring?

So, the obvious question is: Do I like this emerging stage of my life?

Well, I'm not really sure. Saturday was a great day. I felt relaxed, refreshed and ready to face the world. I really enjoyed myself. But, I'm looking forward to this week when this old house will be filled with the sounds of my children again. Even if the sound is just the tap tapping of a keyboard, a guitar being strummed or the boom, boom, boom, of the music they're listening to. It sounds like home.

I suppose I'll survive when the last two finally move out. Maybe I'll need to find a hobby. Maybe I can go to evening meetings without feeling guilty that I'm not home, helping out with homework or at least keeping an eye on the computer.

What I can do is to enjoy these days now, when they come-live "one day at a time" as my 12 step friends say and then deal with the real empty nest only when it comes along. I have survived the other stages of my life, I think I can survive this one too. I know other people have and they quite enjoy their new freedom.

*My apologies to my friends with young children who would give their eye teeth for a day like this! I hope I don't sound like I'm whining or complaining.

100 Things About Me

I read a few of these lists so I'm going to try one now...

1. I once spent an entire night awake, worrying that Ben had not come home, when in fact, he was home and asleep in his bed.
2. My hometown is called Beamsville and the sign outside of town says "Beamsville, The Heart of the Fruitbelt."
3. The school I attended was in Fruitland.
4. I have to get up in the night on occasion to pee and I'm not pregnant. Just getting older.
5. I have neat handwriting.
6. I prefer to have a few clothes that I love than many clothes that I hate.
7. I am a good speller. I have only had to memorize the spelling of 2 words in my life. They are "necessary" and "occasionally."
8. My favourite colours are warm earth tones although I own a pale pink suit that I wore for my son's wedding.
9. I have 4 amazing children and one lovely daughter-in-law.
10. There is only 100 percent pure Dutch blood running through my veins.
11. If I want to relax, I listen to classical music. My favourite classical music is from the Baroque period.
12. I have a university degree.
13. I don't usually wear makeup. I go through periods when I wear it all the time and then I stop.
14. I think that Kristen is very beautiful.
15. I am very particular about which pen I use. I hate those cheap ones.
16. A glass of wine with dinner on a Friday night-it doesn't get much better than that.
17. I spent many summers in Beamsville at the Kinsmen swimming pool. We had a "family plan" and I felt very important just walking in and saying "family plan" without having to wait in line to pay.
18. I have a green belt in Taekwondo. I wish I had a black belt. Maybe one day.
19. I hate getting dirt under my fingernails.
20. I have been married for 25 years, 7 months and 27 days. I have known Wes for about 28 years.
21. The first thing Wes ever bought me was an ice cream cone on the May long weekend in 1978.
22. My mother taught me that food had to look good on your plate. That's why I can't have broiled chicken, mashed potatoes and corn on the same plate without adding carrots or green beans.
23. I love soup. Any kind. Except borscht. And don't tell me that your grandmother's borscht is better than any one elses. I hate beets. So I don't like borscht okay?
24. I hate bad grammar and I'm a little concerned that the word "elses" in #23 may need an apostrophe.
25. I prefer the British spelling for words like neighbour, labour and organisation.
26. The name of the first boy I ever liked was Ronald. He was in my grade 2 class.
27. When I was in grade one, a girl in my class was hit by a car and killed after she got off the bus in front of the school. I didn't know her because it was at the beginning of the school year. I have believed all my life that school busses got their flashing red lights and the law that drivers had to stop for them occurred, as a direct result of her death.
28. I have attended the funerals of too many people in my life. The first one was for a 6 year old classmate. (see #27)
29. Two of the most amazing, gifted, wise and fun women I know are my sisters.
30. I do not drink pop. I don't like the fizz.
31. Eric plays the mandolin. That is just the coolest thing ever.
32. One of my earliest memories is when I learned how to drink out of a straw.
33. When I was a kid, there was no such thing as seatbelts. I remember standing on the seat so that I could see. It's amazing we weren't killed in a car accident.
34. I am terribly proud of all of my children and I want to brag about them all the time. I don't though because I think that can be boring for the person to whom I'm bragging.
35. My parents once had a car where you could see the road through a hole in the floor by the back seat.
36. I am a Christian. That doesn't mean I'm homophobic or that I'm ever going to be a "sidewalk counsellor" at an abortion clinic. It means that I follow the teachings of Jesus Christ who was all about love.
37. I have always liked the colour of my hair.
38. One of my favourite bible stories is the one where a bunch of men bring a woman who was caught in adultery to Jesus and asked him what they should do as their laws required that she be put to death. Jesus just said, "Anyone here who has no sin in his life, may throw the first stone at her." They all walked away. Duh. And Jesus told the woman that he did not condemn her.
39. I LOVE watching my kids play volleyball. 3 of them are actually very good. Ben was ranked #4 in the province of Manitoba in his grade 12 year. (Okay, so I'm bragging. So sue me)
40. Tim moves his body just like Ben does when he plays volleyball.
41. I love my husband and I want to live with him until the day one of us dies.
42. I hate clutter but my house can be pretty cluttery. I also hate cleaning up clutter.
43. I only eat the good ice cream. The cheap stuff is just not worth the calories.
44. Unsolicited advice can make me cranky.
45. My parents are the only ones in their families who immigrated to Canada. That means all of my aunts, uncles and cousins live overseas.
46. All 4 of my grandparents are dead. If they were alive they'd all be in their late 90s and early 100s.
47. I love doing the Saturday crossword. I tell people who poopoo this activity that it stimulates my brain and I do it for my intellectual health.
48. I am teaching myself to play the accordion.
49. I think that my favourite instrument has to be the oboe. I never learned how to play it because you have to blow so hard that it feels like air is coming out of your ears. I didn't like that feeling.
50. I pick at my fingers when I'm nervous.
51. I think that k.d. lang has the most amazing voice I have ever heard. Her CD "Hymns of the 49th Parallel" is very cool.
52. I once got a 2nd degree burn from the sun on my back when I was picking strawberries. That part of my back has a lot of freckles on it.
53. I've gone to Walt Disney World a number of times and I love it there.
54. I have only fainted 3 times in my life. Once, after I had surgery on my thumb, once when I was pregnant with Tim, and once after I gave birth to Kristen. It is a very freaky feeling.
55. I got stitches in my foot once because I got a bad cut from a piece of glass. My family often reminds me that if I had been wearing real shoes and not flip flops while I was mowing the lawn, it probably wouldn't have happened.
56. I love it when Kristen giggles. She still does on occasion when she's not being a cool teenager.
57. I love the way children are drawn to Eric. He's 6' 3" and still they're not afraid of him. I think that they sense that he loves to play with them. He'll make a great dad some day.
58. Sometimes, when I'm with the right company, I swear.
59. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I swear. It usually only happens when the computer's acting up.
60. I watch very little TV. The commercials drive me crazy.
61. I remember the first time that I was walking with Ben when I felt that he could protect me. At that time he was well over 6 feet tall and stronger than me. Before then, I always felt that I had to protect him.
62. I always thought that I was a fat teenager when in reality, I wasn't.
63. I lost an arm wrestle to Ben when he was 12. He says that he was 9. I'd like to think that I am right.
64. One of the reasons I decided to marry Wes was because he owned a Volkswagen Beetle that was a very strange bright blue colour. No man driving that kind of car can take himself too seriously, especially when he's scraping the frost on the INSIDE windshield in the winter.
65. I thought Wes was such a gentleman when we started dating because he always opened my car door for me. I had already fallen in love with him when I discovered that he opened my door first because his was broken. Sigh.
66. I prefer round dining tables to square or rectangular. Conversation flows much better around a round table.
67. I have never played a video game to completion. I have tried but I have been unsuccessful. While I believe it is important to keep up with technology, I think that this will be one thing that I will not master or even attempt ever again, in my lifetime.
68. The most bored I have ever been was in my Contemporary Music class at Brock University on Thursdays from 5-6 p.m. Every class. It was brutal.
69. I am grateful to the 3 people in my life who recognized my musical "ear" and encouraged it. Margaret Swytink, Mrs. Wilson, my piano teacher and Mr. Beardy my high school band teacher.
70. I'm a good driver and I seldom speed.
71. I have a grand piano at home and I just love it. One day, when we move into a smaller house, we will still need a big living room for the piano. I am not giving it up.
72. I believe that pianos should be located in the living area of a house. Music is meant to be shared and if the piano is stuck in some room in the basement, it cannot be enjoyed by everyone.
73. I belong to the best church community in the world. If I could not attend GNF, I would have to start my own church and model it after GNF.
74. One day I hope to be a grandmother. I hope it will happen within the next 5 years but don't tell Ben and Carolyn that.
75. I drink one cup of coffee a day on average. On weekends I might drink more. Otherwise, water is my preferred beverage. I HATE beer but I do enjoy a cooler now and then in the summer. And wine. I love red wine. I am glad that I'm not an alcoholic.
76. I am not an animal lover, I am an animal tolerator.
77. I wish I could remember the names of flowers like my sisters can. I just love walking in a garden with them because they know so much about the plants and flowers. When I walk in a garden with them, I am reminded of our mother's sister, Mies who can also name almost every flower she sees.
78. I love Monday night jammin' with the family.
79. Every time Micah sits on my lap, I think it might be the last time. He's growing up.
80. I once stood in line for 2 hours on opening night in a movie theatre so I could watch Star Wars. The things we do for our kids.
81. I have never intentionally pulled an all-nighter.
82. Tim reminds me of an exuberant puppy. He's got big hands and feet and doesn't know his own strength. He also makes me laugh.
83. I HATE the mall. Every time I go there, I feel fat, ugly and stupid. I know in my mind that is not true but it is not easy convincing your heart otherwise.
84. I am a member of a 12 Step group and I love the other messed up, compulsive people who come. They're real.
85. I just love fresh tomatoes and mayonnaise on toast with a sprinkling of salt and freshly ground pepper.
86. I value integrity in people and in myself.
87. When the kids were young, I would love to stay up late at night when everyone was asleep and the house was quiet. I don't have to do that anymore because this house is usually pretty quiet.
88. I must confess that I own a hair straightener. The first time I used it, Kristen looked at me and said in an accusatory way, "You straightened your hair!" Her accusation was legitimate because I had been giving her a hard time for straightening HER hair.
89. In the winter, I try to go to bed at least 10 minutes after Wes. Nothing feels better than sliding into bed, chilled to the bone, and then cuddling with someone who is very warm and who loves you. He is very willing to do this.
90. I listen to CBC Radio One in the car most of the time. I do not enjoy CBC from 12:00 - 2:00 but I really enjoy the afternoon show "Round Up." When Bill Richardson left, I didn't think they could get another host to do the show justice but I just love Tetsuro Shigematsu. When I first realized that I really liked him, I decided to memorize his name because you have to know the names of your friends. I know, it sounds pathetic but I consider Tetsuro to be a friend even though we've never met.
91. I love the way it feels when you pull a dandelion out of the garden and get the whole root.
92. While I dislike dandelions in my garden, I love the way they look when they cover a field.
93. I have never tasted dandelion wine.
94. I have personally had at least 15 flat tires in my life. I don't think many people can beat that. I have only had to change one myself. Thank goodness for husbands, sons and CAA.
95. I enjoy vacuuming but only when you can hear the junk going up the hose.
96. I like my lattes made with skim milk and extra hot.
97. My sister taught me how to order a latte.
98. I love singing harmony around the campfire.
99. It drives me crazy when someone is playing a guitar or other instrument and uses the wrong chord. I'm not talking about making a mistake. Mistakes happen. But when they can't quite figure out the right chord and play something else, I want to take that guitar and smash it over their head.
100. I am not a violent person. I just have occasional violent thoughts.

There! One hundred things about me. That was actually a fun exercise and it only took me 2 days.

What's a Pastor?

I am part of a faith community that I love. I am encouraged, honoured and blessed by the people in this community and it is here where I feel that I can be myself and use the gifts that I have. The people in this community have affirmed me and now, they want to call me a pastor.

Many years ago (I was 19 or 20) I was involved with a huge church related youth organization in Southern Ontario. I was in a position of leadership and I just loved what I was doing. One day, I was in my bedroom doing some planning and other stuff for the organization and a thought crossed my mind, "I would love to do this as a career. Wouldn't that be wonderful." That thought was immediately followed by another one, "But I can't. I'm a woman."

I think now, in my bedroom that day, God allowed that thought to pop in my head. Was this his gentle way of saying that he had something unique planned for my life? Was I being disobedient by not following through?

At that time, the faith community I was involved with had very clear rules about what men and women were allowed to do. Women were NOT allowed to be pastors or hold any kind of leadership position. I was unwilling to be an instrument of change. I was unwilling to take the inevitable criticism that would come by trying to change long held beliefs. So I pushed the dream out of my consciousness and actually forgot about it for many years.

Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I followed through on that dream. That's hard to imagine. There have been changes in some of the churches of my denomination but in the church of my youth there are at this time, no women with any kind of leadership role. If I had stayed, would I have been able to live with these archaic ways? I often say that if I had stayed there, I would have either left the church or had a nervous breakdown.

Anyway, here I am, in a faith community that honours the gifts of men, women, and children equally. I am being given the opportunity to "live my dream." Then why am I so afraid? Why am I so hesitant to jump into a role that I first dreamed about 25 years ago? Am I afraid to take the responsibility of being a spiritual leader? What will I tell the people in my parent's church this summer when I go there for a visit?

Maybe it's just the "pastor" word I'm having trouble with. When people ask me what I do, I tell them I work in a church and most of them assume that I'm the church secretary. I don't correct them. Why am I so afraid to tell them I'm a pastor?

I think that it might have something to do with the label. I really hate labels because they tend to put people in a box and I think the "pastor box" is not always a favourable one for many. So, I think I'm afraid that people will make assumptions about me if I tell them that I'm a pastor. I'm afraid that I might not feel free to express my opinions and that people will look at my behaviour and wonder if a pastor should act that way. Do pastors cheer at volleyball games until they lose their voices? Do pastors get mad when somebody cuts them off in traffic? Do pastors swear? Do pastors loose their tempers with their children and argue with their daughters like they were in junior high? Should the children of pastors be "above reproach?" Should pastors keep a clean house? Should pastors be female?

I think that people expect a pastor to be wise and to be willing to take control of a situation when necessary. I do not feel very wise very often and would prefer to stay in the background when push comes to shove.

But then I think back to that time in my bedroom so many years ago and what I now believe was some kind of a vision from God-a clear suggestion that he had a plan for me. Maybe, after all these years I am finally able to step out in faith and do what I was created to do.

I'm still not sure. I think I'll try it. Just don't call me pastor.

Naked

So, there we were, minding our own business as we were driving down the Disraeli Freeway and we see a man walking. There is nothing unusual about that. I probably travel the Disraeli more than 10 times a week. And there are people walking on the sidewalk all the time.

What made this man different was that he was naked. Stark naked. Not a stitch of clothing on his body. Nude. Unclothed. Shoeless. Hatless. Shirtless. Pantless. (You get the picture)

Other than the lack of clothing, he looked normal. Walking with a purposeful stride, head down, as if he were on his way to Safeway or 7-11 to buy a jug of milk for his kids. m was driving and the two boys in the back seat were quite impressed with the sight. This is something you may only see once in your life. I, being the oldest had never seen anything like it. The two boys wanted us to turn around for another look but m thought better of it and we continued on to our destination.

This reminded us of another story concerning a naked man. I delivered Meals On Wheels for a while when Kristen was in kindergarten. This was a great activity for us as it gave us time together to do some volunteer work.

One day, we were to go to a home where we had never delivered before. We got the meal out of the car and proceeded to the back door. It took a few minutes before the gentleman answered our knocking although that was not unusual. Most of the people we delivered to were elderly and didn't move too quickly. I noted that he was tall and handsome and looked fairly normal with his hair a little disheveled. What was not normal about this situation was that he was wearing a housecoat, open at the front and like the Disraeli Walker, naked.

I tried to stay calm. I didn't want Kristen to freak or anything but I was a little concerned about what she was seeing. Remember, she was about 4 years old and you can imagine what the eye level view was for her. I kept my eyes on the gentleman's eyes, gave him his meal and we walked back to the car.

I waited for the inevitable question.

My mind was trying to come up with answers that could explain why this man answered his door, in the middle of the day, with the family jewels displayed for all to see. Was he a little loopy? Was he perverted? I only had seconds to come up with some kind of plausible explanation for Kristen.

Finally, after I belted her into her seat Kristen turned to me and asked the question.

"Mom, did you see that man's toenails?"

Whew.

48 Days

It was March 21, 1945 when he was killed. A mere 48 days from VE Day. Had he survived, I would have probably known my grandfather. As it is, I never knew him. My father was only 15 years old at the time of Opa's death.

I have a diary, written by "Oom Peter" who married my dad's cousin "Tante Henny" in 1947. Oom Peter was an "onderduiker" -a man who went into hiding in order to escape deportation to Germany. In his diary, there is an entry that reads, "On the way home we hear the sad news that the Allied have bombed the trenches and the men who were working there in the neighbouring town Varsseveld. It happened at 10 o'clock this morning. Oom Johannes Wikkerink and Mr. Huitink have died. When we come home we hear that many more men have died, one of them, Oom Johan Hoornenborg."

Johannes Wikkerink was my Opa. Or should I say "would have been" my Opa. Johan Hoornenborg was an uncle of my mother.

They, along with a number of other men from the town of Aalten were rounded up by the Germans and given a choice. Either they were to go to Germany and dig trenches, or be killed. I don't know how long they were there or how they were treated. The family doesn't talk much about those dark days near the end of the war except to say that they were the hardest.

For many years I thought that Opa was killed by the Germans and I suppose you could argue that it is true. However, it was the Allies-Canadians-who dropped the bombs that killed him.

Friendly fire.

Opa was buried 3 days later. Oom Peter's diary reads, "Looking ahead of us we see bombers dropping loads of phosphorous bombs which fall on farms and homes. To our right the village of Aalten is burning and to our left, the Jabos are diving left and right, up and down, shooting like mad. When we get closer to home, we meet Houwer, who says that at the funeral of Oom Johann (who was buried last) bombs were dropped.
I cry when I hear this. Nothing is safe, any movement is suspicious and will be attacked. This is why the funerals of today are held separately and no funeral processions are allowed. Everyone has to go on their own, sometimes from tree to tree to reach the cemetery safely."

I cannot imagine what it must have been like for my Oma and her seven children. Dad tells me that he was told not to cry-nobody was-because that showed weakness. Imagine having to sneak to your own father's funeral with the very real possibility that you too may die. And not being allowed to express the fear and terror that causes your heart to race and your blood to run cold as you hear the bombs falling around you.

If that doesn't change a person, I don't know what would. Sometimes I wonder, if Opa had lived to a ripe old age, would my dad's life have been different? Would my father's temper not have been so volatile when I was growing up? Might he have better understood and allowed tears to be shed and sadness expressed in our home? Would he have stayed in Holland and not immigrated to Canada? Would he have married my mother?

I know that it's not a good idea to dwell on questions like this but sometimes my mind wanders and I wonder "What if?" I believe that even though he doesn't talk about them, Dad thinks about these things often. And I know that these life events have molded him into the man he is today, warts and all.

I'm going to visit him this summer when he and mom will be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. Some of the dutch relatives will be there and maybe, if we're lucky, they'll start reminiscing about days long ago. I'll be there with my ears wide open and my tape recorder ready to roll.

PT Interviews

Well, we got the report card last week and it wasn't pretty. The teacher even requested an interview. The only time the teacher requests an interview in high school is when there is a problem. If you saw the marks, you'd know, there is a problem.

Problem is, he's smart. Give him a half hour to study the chapter and he'll pull off an 80. Give him an hour and it will likely be a 90. (although it has never been done before so I'm just assuming). You've seen the report card comment before-"He's smart and only needs to apply himself". Augh! How does a mother help her child to "apply himself?" If he doesn't tell me what's due, how can I nag him about getting an assignment done?

He's 18 now and in the eyes of our culture, an adult. He can go to a bar and order a drink, he can vote, he no longer needs my permission for anything.

My problem is that I don't know where my responsibility lies. Do I let him slack off in this, his final year of high school and let him suffer the consequences of failed courses? Or do I keep nagging, threatening, meeting with his teachers and stay on top of him like I did in Juniour High? It worked then. He made the honour roll in Grade 10 for both terms. (Mind you, I think MY name should have been up there but that's another story.)

Even as I write this, I know what I'm going to do. Today, I meet with his teacher. I'll come home and write all of his assignments on the kitchen calendar. And I will "gently persuade him" that it's time to start work on his 3,000 word research essay as it's due in 3 days.

You know what really gets to me? He'll research and write this essay and will pull off an 85. That makes me crazy.

In the end, I know, deep in my heart that he will "pull it off." He will graduate from Grade 12, maybe not with honours but with a respectable average (thank goodness for the math and PE grades) and in June, at graduation, I will breathe a huge sigh of relief. 3 down, 1 to go.

Renovations

Well, we're renovating again.

The great thing about renovations is that you (usually) end up with something better than before.

Another great thing about renovating is that now you have an excuse for all the dust in the house.

We have a beautiful, big, 95 year old house. I am "decorating challenged" so I have trouble trying to find paints and fabrics to make my house look unique. Those things are not necessary here. The high ceilings, wide baseboards, interesting lines and funky closets make this place different from any other.

There is something about an older home that connects me to the peole who lived here before. If only these walls could speak! What stories would they tell! What secrets would they share?

I think the dining room walls would have the most to say. What have they seen and heard as people lingered over a glass of wine after a meal? I'd like to think that there's been laughter, tears, heated political discourse (after all, these walls have lived through two world wars), and discussions about renovations. These walls have heard engagement announcements, seen newborn babies fussed over, listened to prayers of thanksgiving and hope. And music. These walls have heard plenty of music and song.

Every family that has lived here has left its imprint upon these walls. Like a tapestry, the lives of each family has been woven into the fabric, making this home unique, different from any other.

I wonder what these walls would say about my family.

What do they think when they see children participating, even directing the discussions around the table? Shouldn't "children be seen and not heard?" Do they think of the starving people when they see food left on plates? Do they frown down on us when we excuse the children to go and play while the adults finish up? They must have wondered what was happening the first time the men got up to clear the table after dinner, a sight to which they have now become accustomed.

Like the other families who have called this place home, we are leaving our mark. This is something that cannot be covered with paint and paper. It is an indelible spot that will remain with this home long after we move away and our voices will be added to the symphony of sounds, smells and feelings that make up this old house.

My First Blog

Well, here it is. My first blog. At 47 years of age I have joined the younger generation and am posting a blog on line. Who'd have thought it? I still think that I write best with the ancient tools-ink and paper but this is the way of the future so I will join all those computer savy Gen Xers and use my keyboard.

There are several promises that I will make to myself and those of you who might read my ramblings:

• I will do my best to avoid spelling mistakes and grammatical errors.
• I will post as frequently as possible or when I am moved to write something.
• I will try my best not to embarrass my children-even though that's almost impossible.
• I will not try to be too deep or profound. Otherwise, I may not write anything!

This blog is my little secret for now. Maybe one day I'll let others in on it but for now, it's just me and my computer.