ne, ne, ne, NINETEEN!

Some may remember the song. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSGvqjVHik8)

I can still remember dancing to it, while celebrating my own nineteenth birthday! Hard to believe I now have a daughter this age, who has never heard of Paul Hardcastle.

It has been a great year for my girl, capped-off by getting her driver's license. Freedom for both of us. No more late-night pick ups or drives with a van full of giggling girls. This is one of the last things on my parent "to do" list. I could pat myself on the back for a job well done.

But there are some things I just can't teach..And these may be the hardest lessons of all. I experienced this recently, when trying to help mend her broken heart. Smiles, cookies and hugs just won't help. We all know, time will, but this she must find out by herself.

Happy Birthday my sweet. I will now sidestep and let you lead the way!

These boots were made for walking

Fall is definitely here and with it comes the rain and ensuing puddles. My one-year old has discovered these with delight. We too are thrilled that he is hopping and splashing. Just a few weeks ago we removed his leg-cast (perhaps fodder for another blog) and thus we are overjoyed that he is walking well and enjoying the drizzly weather. The resulting soggy shoes however, are not so appealing.

Off we went to find some rain boots. I was armed with a fist full of loonies and my boy with his bottle. We went to five (!) stores, ones you would recognize. Did we find boots for boys?? Ha! There were lovely boots for wee girls: pink, and yellow ones, ones with Dora, and others with Barbie. Where were the cute boots for boys?? "Sold out" was the answer.

In desperation, we finally went to a childrens' shoe store. Did they have rain boots for boys?? Oh yes they did..well sort of, two models, and only one that fit Sir Liam. I was relieved, no more wet socks and cold feet, until I went to pay. My fist full of cash simply wasn't sufficient. The total came to $50! (that's $25/boot). This sum for an accessory that will last, at most, six months.

Given this, perhaps we will consider introducing our little man to the possibilities of cross-dressing.

A year ago today

In the middle of the night I felt a tug, then pressure in my belly. A quick trip to the bathroom confirmed it - the day was here and it was going to be a memorable one.

After waking up your aunt and Dad, we drove to the hospital.

The moon was full and it was a gorgeous, soft night. I could hear the whispering of the cicadas and chirping of some very early-risers. You and I were both excited - I babbled and you kicked along the way. Your Dad and aunt were quiet, anticipating the road ahead.

We were greeted with smiles and bright lights at the hospital. I was hooked up to tubes and drips, oblivious to anything but your stirrings.

After an eternity of waiting, you finally made your move. I responded gladly and used all my energy to help your progress. Although, it wasn't easy and you struggled a bit at the end, we both made it through.

At last, I was able to hold you in my arms, you were unbelievably tiny and precious. When our eyes met for the very first time, it was with recognition. "There you are."

A year ago today, you were born and changed our lives forever.

Tel Aviv: Warm weather, water and people

After a very grueling 16-hours of travel, we arrived in Tel Aviv, to be greeted openly. There was no army staring us down and no threatening atmosphere anywhere. We were embraced by the humid air of the Mediterannean and welcomed warmly by the people of Israel.

Our first stop was the beach - the ocean was incredibly warm, as was the sand! Too warm for sensitive Canadian feet. Our second stop was to satisfy our rumbling stomachs. We were hosted by some colleagues and friends and were treated to a delicious and filling supper on the sand. Both our hosts and the restaurant staff did not blink an eye when we brought in Sir Liam. Immediately a booster was brought out and his royal highness enjoyed the likes of calamari, hummus, fish kebabs and creme brulee that really did melt in our mouths.



Day two involved a whir wind tour of the Weizmann Institute and yet another hosted dinner, this time in the Tel Aviv port. The Institute was surprisingly large and beautiful and their public relations office was daunting. The port was lively and full of children, even after 10 p.m. Sir Liam ate more calamari and shrimp soaked in olive oil..oy.



Our last day involved a trip to the historic site of Old Jaffa. Once again, a remarkable spot. Beautiful, clean and full of history. We visited the market and managed to bargain for a few items - I'm not sure who got the bargain, though.

The city of Tel Aviv is crumbling in some spots but new buildings are being erected, demonstrating the optimism of its citizens. It has seen many governments and ensuing changes. The present city is warm, welcoming and from a visitor's eyes, balanced and prosperous.

Next stop, Jerusalem..Shalom

What the...???

Cusses..they are everywhere in our household conversations. Nary a shalt-shaker is passed without a curse. It wasn't always this way. When the kids were little, we were very careful not to utter obscene or aggressive language. The house was full of "dangs" and "shucks", and we sounded like purple dinosaurs!

This all changed as our children hit adolescence. To be cool parents, we would allow the occasional s-word and we would use universal hand language to let hostile drivers know what we thought of their road-side behaviour. As our teens grew to be young adults our swearing escalated alarmingly.

There has been an incredible pleasure to be able to utter these illicit words with our children - it's like sharing a forbidden treasure. Or perhaps like dancing, when it has been prohibited (think "Foot Loose").

We are not alone in this transition. A friend called the other day, who also has young-adult children. Even my ears were burning after our discussion (hard to believe, I know).

The one downside is, of course, that our ten-month old is learning our bad-ass vocabulary. I'm afraid his first word will be something entirely inappropriate. What to do? Restrain our liberal ways...?? Nah, I don't think so, it's been fun. I think our best course of action is to let the "little man" know that some words can only be uttered by adults. It will give him something to look forward to.

I can hardly wait until our very uptight, judgmental and non-cooperative MD asks me what Liam's first word was. If he utters admonishments, I'll tell him to "Shut the Front Door!"

Graduation #2!

I noticed it first when her hand reached for mine. It was no longer tiny and the grip was remarkably firm. Yes, she was only two, but I knew then that I would not have to worry. This daughter of mine would soar through life, confident and ready to conquer. What I couldn't foresee was her startling intellect.

These signs came later:

• When she was four, she debated with a fellow pre-schooler where babies come from. (The teachers had to distract her from yelling out the correct anatomical terms.)
• When she was seven, she asked me how light bulbs worked. She wasn't satisfied with my clever answer about flicking on the switch.
• At nine, she recited her times-tables all the way across the province of Quebec (and back again).
• At 11 she became far too interested in worms. Oh yes, I discovered them in her pockets.
  
• At 13 she memorized a surprisingly long Shakespeare soliloquy and recited AND recited it.
  
• At 15 she was kicked out of math class for correcting the teacher (now that's discipline!)
  

This is just a partial list of her cleverness and to cap-it off, today Elyse will graduate from high school with honours. She will stride across that stage, shake hands without hesitation and smile down at us momentarily. Then her eyes will once again gaze on some unknown horizon.

Today, isn't the benchmark of Elyse's progress or her independence, she hit these long ago. Rather, today may be one of the last where I get the privilege of sharing her glory. That tiny hand has long outgrown mine and is itching to greet the world.

Good luck my beautiful girl and congratulations. My hand will be always waiting to hold yours again.

The nine-month nap

Similar to sleeping beauty, I have now awoken—my prince is nine-month Liam, who has learned how to give kisses. Yes I have a son, and yes it’s been nine months since I last blogged (shall I say some Hail Mary’s?). The bottom line is, I’m back!

A quick recap of the labour and the first nine months:

• Giving birth was horrific: Note to all moms-to-be. If your hospital has an 80 percent epidural rate and delivers more than 10 babies/day, there will be little support for a “natural” labour. Take some Lamaze or hypnotherapy courses, or hire a doula. You won’t regret the cost!

• The first few weeks: Sleepless nights aren’t really that bad. Who really needs sleep? Certainly not your newborn.

• Six-week colic: Three-hour crying bouts led us to “How to have the best baby on the block”. Baby-whisperer guru book that works.

• Nursing: Ah, the pleasure and pain. Was it because I am an older mom that this was so difficult? Three bouts of mastitis; six teeth in five months; seven months of constant attachment and presto it was all done.

Who is that gorgeous happy baby?

At nine-months Liam continues to bring us daily joy. He coos, babbles, laughs with glee, screeches with delight, eats EVERYTHING, crawls, creeps, snores through the night, and loves to be cuddled. Sounds like an older man, I know. We are blessed

As for the rest of our family:

• Our oldest son completed his first year of University with flying colours – horrah!

• Our oldest daughter finished CEGEP (juniour college) and is traveling in Australia – “good on ya mate”!

• Our next oldest daughter aced her first year of CEGEP – rockin’ girl!

• Our youngest daughter will be graduating from high school with honours – way to merk-it!

• My husband recently celebrated is 50^th birthday – OMG!

• I have started working (can’t you tell?) and almost fit into my clothes.

LIFE IS GOOD