Sunday, 15 May 2011

Staff beats Staph any day.

First of all, much thanks to my sister & niece for coming to pick up the kids and treat them to supper at the cantine while I was in a meeting Friday night. (They could have stayed here under Noah's surveillance, but it was a nice time for them). Much appreciation, Brenda & Amanda, next time, you'll have to accept the money I left ! The kids very much enjoy the time spent with you all. I must admit that it gives me great comfort to know that extended family love my children as I do theirs.

Hannah deserves kudos for volunteering not only at the set- up Friday afternoon for the school's bazaar, but also for working the entire 8 hours on Saturday selling items for her class table. When I picked her up at 4:00, her teacher said what a great worker she was, and how she dickered & bartered. (that's my girl ! )  She also won a baseball cap in the drawing. I won nothing. But unknown to me, she attended with cash in hand, so she also purchased *sigh* an enormous stuffed Yeti..& 2 pair of shoes. She wore the white heels ("I disinfected them Mom") to supper last night with her father...even put on a dress and came to me asking how I felt about white heels with a black dress. I told her, better go with the black & silver flats..but she wanted the 'click' of the heels. Hey, I was 11 once , so I get that. She'd draped her sweater over her arm in such a ladylike manner that I wasn't to fuss over white shoes with black dress.

Meanwhile, during her volunteering, her Dad went over to say Hi, and came back here afterward to continue his objectives, laughing. Told me how proudly Hannah held up her tag "Look Dad, I am 'Staff' " :D

When I picked her up, it was not beyond my notice that all the children who helped had their credentials slung by a string around their necks, but Hannah had clipped her's to her front jeans pocket.

 Keep on banging to a different drummer Hannah-Banana/Hollywood. Blue tartan pleated skirt, jean jacket, purple tuque, red leggings, one blue striped glove & one plain grey.

Have I mentionned that she's recently changed her long-held career choice from Urology to Fashion design?  Hats might be making a comeback, ladies. Scarves as belts certainly will be. Interestingly enough, my late Aunt Sunny was a fashion designer & both she & my mother were models for a brief period. My mother more on a Channel line, Sunny was actually one of the poster girls for RAF recruitment during WW2. I'd love to have one of those posters ! Cliff told me he remembered one hanging in Gunter's & believed it perhaps to be in the attic, but it proved to not be there.

I'm not a bacteriaphobe, but i'm careful & glad that the children understand to also be careful. Cause being staff certainly beats a staphlyococcus infection.

Saturday, 7 May 2011


My children never knew my mother (Grammy) in a physical sense, she'd passed away from ovarian cancer 4 + years before even Noah's birth. Nor did they truly know my mother in law (Grandmama) although Noah has memories of her, they were very young when breast cancer took away their only remaining grandmother.

 I used to bring the kids every year to my own mother's grave. I'd spend some time pruning the rose bushes my brother planted, tidy up the area, chase the kids when they wandered too far...spend some time wandering myself, looking at the oldest stones.

A few years ago though, I just stood shivering in a late spring snow, the infamous Melbourne Ridge wind blowing down across the hill toward the St. Francis valley. There I stood. Staring at a piece of granite with "Amazing Grace" chiselled at the top. Her name below. Dates. A lifetime of existence carved precisely in stone with really nothing to say.

I took a good look around at my own children and how they felt about this tradition. What I saw was a lack of interest in some for stones and grass and fences. In another, what I understood was a concern for not causing upset to me. Then I turned back to the grave and what I saw was a stone, some plantings, some grass. And I understood. She's not here. She lives inside me, she lives in the stories I tell my children.

Since that day, I have continued the other tradition that I hold with my kids. I rejoice in having been given the opportunity to raise and hopefully release onto society 3 well-rounded independant adults. I pay special attention to make a great meal. I WILL & do wear my macaroni necklaces and dolphin bracelets. And I, to the utter delight of my children, tell stories of both their grandmothers and of my Nanny.

"More Mom, tell us about the time that Nanny saw her brother through the window... no-no tell us that sad story about the sleigh lady who came to tell Grammy that her brother died in's my turn!! Tell us about the quilts...And who was the BEST at doing jigsaws? Grand-mama! And did Grand-mama ever scare the skin off you when she played hide & seek in the shower and you went in to go pee! Did Grand-mama hurt, Mom? Did Grammy hurt? Which one was the best knitter who never dropped a stitch? Grammy. Who taught you how to pick up a dropped stitch? Grand-mama. Who taught you to embroider? Nanny. Which one again was the pie lady? Who laughed like an owl? Why are my eyes blue & theirs are brown? Where in England or Scotland ? Are you going to leave your recipe box to me in the will? Am I dying soon? "

 ad infinitum.

Never tell me that children don't enjoy history.

And THAT is where our mothers live.

Quote of the Day:  I'd like to come up with something witty and interesting but it's just not coming to me so i'll stick with my standard "I still have many years left to entirely screw it all up. It will be a success to do something so wrong, so right."