Connections

The house was as clean as it was going to get.

The groceries were bought and the food prepared.

I was freshly showered, dressed in my casual but approachable outfit.

My face made up, my hair blown dry and straightened.

I had resisted the urge to google:

meeting my half brother - adoption reunion etiquette.

ok, that's a lie. I googled it.

Adrenaline pumped through me. 

I was excited and nervous, and happy.  I felt uncomfortable buzzy.  I wanted to release some of my extra adrenaline, but the problem was,

 I wasn't sure if crying, laughing or squealing like a fifteen year old girl at a rock concert would give me the release I was looking for.

So I paced.

I fidgeted,

 and yes, my favorite anxiety buster,

I swore. 

A lot.

Fuck, that's going to make a great impression.

  

Once my Mom and my sister arrived, I felt better.

Or, at least I didn't feel so alone.

Mom watched the window for Jon to arrive.

When he pulled in the driveway, she waited at the door.

And Jon he came in,

my mother embraced her son.

Her child who she had waited forty six years to hold.

The energy was magical,

 just as pure,

just as beautiful

 as when any mother holds her child for the first time.

We visited.  We cried.

We laughed and shared.
And it all felt so easy.

I came away from meeting my brother wanting more.

More stories.

More conversations.

More time.

More connections.

I realized my fear, my anxiety wasn't

What if he doesn't like me -

or

What if I don't like him -

What I was worried about was
despite all of our courage

we wouldn't connect.

and then I realized with a smile on my face this morning, that I had
 

Underestimated the power of family.

Welcome Jon and Donna

xo



First Born

It was during my first pregnancy that I learned out about my mother's first pregnancy. 

We were talking about the magic of being pregnant for the first time.  It was that day, that my mom felt she was ready to share with me about her first pregnancy.   In the spring of 1965, when my mother was eighteen years old, she became pregnant.  I'm not sure of the details, but during her pregnancy, Mom went to live with another family.  In December, my mother gave birth to her first born, a son that she named him Kurt.  Not being able to take care of her son, but wanting the best for him, she made the decision to give him up for adoption.

Remember that at the time of this revelation, I was pregnant with my daughter.  My first born.  I was shocked at my mother's news, but immediately I felt a pang of grief for her.  A woman's first pregnancy should be a happy time.  One of beautiful firsts.  I couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been, to be away from your family, scared, ashamed and alone.  Growing a little human being, knowing that you would not get to know this little person. 

I've thought of Kurt often.  It's not like I think about him every day, but I would often wonder what he looked like.  I wondered if I passed Kurt on the street, would I recognize a stranger as my brother.  Did he look like us? When I would meet men who were adopted, I would casually ask how old they were, to see if they were my long lost brother.

The years went by.  Mom never gave up hope that one day she would get the chance to meet her son. In December Kurt was on my mom's mind the most (or at least I could count that in December that she would talk to me about him.)  On the years that she could afford to do so, Mom would take a classified ad out in the Toronto newspapers, wishing her birth son a happy birthday.  Mom registered with an adoption agency, and hoped that Kurt would one day register as well.

Last week, I had a call from my mother.  She was crying.  Between sobs, she told me that she had a call from the adoption agency.  She had been found: her son had found her.  The lady from the agency was 100% sure it was a match.  Kurt's name was now Jon.  He grown up in Toronto and had a large family of three brothers and a sister.  Jon now lived in the London area where he owned his own masonry and stone work business.  Mom was waiting for Jon to contact her by email. 

In the days that have since passed, the family have all had Facebook contact with Jon.  We've had a chance to browse through each other's family pictures.  It's been a surreal experience spotting family resemblances with a stranger - my new brother looks A LOT like my grandfather.  It's been an exciting time for us, but most of all for my Mom and Jon.  Soon - in just a couple of days my sister, brother and I will get a chance to see our mother reunited with her first born.  I can't wait. 

Just before I received my Mom's phone call last week, I was outside with my camera and spotted this heart shaped icicle clung to a bush in my backyard.  I was inside editing, thinking about how you just don't know when or where you will find love when my phone rang. 
Trust the universe.

Five Years.

I got off my bike and looked out at the vacant picnic area.  

A family should be here, enjoying the last days of summer, laughing, playing, making memories.

Once upon a time it was our family that would have been here. Once upon a time. When we were whole.  This weekend marked the fifth anniversary of my mother in laws passing. 

There could have been 100 families here, it wouldn't have made a difference to how I felt- Empty and hollow, missing her so much.

Because my daughter misses the sound of her slippers scuffing across the floor.  Because amid the clutter on my teenage son's dresser is a picture of his Grandma.  Because a little boy holds on to the memory of a Grandmother who would give him treats in a Ziploc baggie each time he left her house.  Because another little boy doesn't remember her at all.  Because Charlie sleeps with the Bunny she gave him for Easter.  Because her grandchildren have missed out on one of life's great treasures, but holding on to the few memories they have as tight as Charlie hangs on to Mr. Bunny.

Because Because Ray is now a widower.  Trying to fit into a world of couples.  Because he goes to the cemetery on Sunday mornings.  Because he's alone.


Because her kids had to grow up in an instant.  Because living without your mom, your cheerleader, your guide and compass is hard.  Because time makes it easier, and then it hits you just how long it's been since she called your name or you heard the sound of her laughter. 

 Looking at where we once played, I felt so alone, and missed her so much.  

Remembering Gary

At Uncle Gary's ten year memorial, the family released balloons sent to heaven with messages for Gary.  So many words left unspoken, what did I want to say.

   

Gary was my husbands uncle.  I had been with John for nine years when Gary was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  At that point in my marriage, I had established close relationships with my immediate in laws, but Gary was part of the extended family that I didn't see often.  When I did see Gary, it was in a group setting, a family dinner or birthday party where there was little opportunity for a heart to heart that would allow me to know how special this man was.

Gary will always hold a special spot in my husbands heart.  John's father passed away when he was only eight.  Gary was one of three men who stepped in and acted as a male role model for my husband.  When his uncle was sick, it was important for John to be there for the man and the family who had given him so much support in his grief.  We both wanted to be a safe place to escape when the hurt was overwhelming, just like they were for him years earlier.   

This is how I know Gary.  I got to know Gary through his illness and his fight.  From how he touched other people. From his legacy. I know the huge gaping hole he's left behind.  A hole that time will never fill.  But it makes me sad, I didn't know the man during the best part of his life.

The message on my balloon said "Dear Gary, I miss you and think of you often"  but, I hope he knows I meant so much more.

a letter to my mother

This post is an excerpt from the love letter I gave my mom on her birthday:

Dear Mom, Today as we celebrate you I wanted to let you know how important you are in my life. Happy Birthday. Just like it is hard for me to believe that my kids are growing up, it's hard for me to believe that you have reached this milestone. You have traveled sixty five times around the sun, and with each passing you have learned a little bit more about yourself, with each time around you have grown more beautiful.

There are so many moments in my life where I felt your love and pride. Moments where you made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. And today, I am wondering did I leave you with the same feeling? Do you know how much I love you, how proud I am of you?

I am proud that you let your emotions flow so freely. I am proud that you are the kind of lady who  laughs so hard she pees her pants.  When something sad touches your heart, you cry just as easily.  You live out loud.  Experiencing your life to its fullest.   

I admire how courageously adapted to the stages of your life.  Whether the changes of your life were new and exciting or challenging and difficult, you have met them with an open heart.  Always remaining optimistic about what the future may hold.

I am thirty seven years old.  An adult.  Gone is the mouthy child who thought she knew it all.  In her place stands a woman who still looks to her mother as a compass when making decisions.  A sail when she needs encouragement.  And an anchor when she needs comfort and stability.  Thank-you for these gifts.    I love you so much, xoxo.





Summer's Growth

Summer is the space between springs promise and fall's bounty.  Summer is the season to grow.

 

As a child I often suffered terrible growing pains in my legs, the kind that would wake you up from sleep.  My mother would give me a baby aspirin and tuck me back into bed.  I would whimper in my bed as I waited for the medicine to work.  This would wake my older sister.  She would get up and wrap my legs in the afghan that Aunt Marg knit.  As long as I could remember the people who loved and cared for me always helped me with my growing pains.

I have experienced so much growth this year.  It's not surprising.  My one little word for 2011 was thrive:

(1) to make steady progress; prosper. 

(2) to grow vigorously; flourish

Maybe I didn't think my word all the way through.  Growth often uncomfortable.  And while a baby aspirin and my legs lovingly wrapped in a blanket isn't going to help my growing pains, it is still my family that I am look to for comfort and encouragement.

When I was editing my pictures, putting together the collages for this post, I felt overwhelming feeling of love and pride.  Seeing us camping, at the beach or just hanging out together, I know that John and I have built a strong foundation.  A strong base that will support all of us as we grow and thrive.  

On His Way

This morning Josh left for his 4 day trip to Quebec with the school.  He packed light, one duffel bag, one backpack, but even with his light load I'm sure he is ready for this. 
I'm sure he's ready.  I'm sure he will be okay.  I keep telling myself this.

I explain having a child on the spectrum as having a child growing up in slow motion.  Josh has typically been slower than other boys to reach his milestones.  My husband and I knew that for Josh's last year of grade school, Josh's resiliency skills and social skills would need to be strengthened.   His readiness for the Quebec trip, and his transition into high school have been the focus of our case conferences. 

The gains he has made this year amaze me.  That's not to say that he hasn't had his moments, but considering what he has to deal with, but I couldn't be prouder how he has handled himself.

So, I should be confident, and I am.  I am not nearly the crying, sobbing mess I was this time last year when the first born had her trip to Quebec.  But just to be sure, I picked up The Orb in Josh's room and asked if he would be fine.  Unclear.   Great.  Just a word of advice, don't second guess your intuition with a toy fortune teller.   He will be fine, he is ready, he can do this. 

  

Almost everyone...

  A few weeks ago, we were able to have a family barbecue at my sister in laws home.  She lives on a rural property just outside of the city, so barbecues at her home definitely have a country charm.  I mean, I can have chicken at my barbecue, but it would be on the grill, not running around the backyard.

  I planned a sleep over, because hubby was on call and I didn't want to drive home in the dark.  Okay, let's be honest here, I didn't want to drive in the dark AND, I wanted to drink - what's a family barbecue without alcohol?

  Everyone hoped that John would be able to make an appearance.  It turned out that for some reason, his on call was super busy, and he was only able to pop in for an hour or so, get some food, and head out again.  But for an hour or so, we were able to have almost everyone together.

  Almost everyone.  Missing was the family that started it all.  Gramma and her family.  Gramma's daughter, Gail, my mother in law.  Gramma's son, Gary, and of course her husband, Grandpa.  I looked out the window while I was washing up some dishes, and felt an overwhelming pang of sadness.  I couldn't help but think how much the "original" family would have loved to be there, and how proud they must be of the family they have left behind.

Easter Weekend

We had a great weekend and I took a TON of pictures.  I wanted to share them all, so here it is; my first video post.  Enjoy!

Dance Nights

I'm a terrible dancer.


Not kind of bad, really bad.  Think Kate from Dancing with the Stars, or Elaine from Seinfeld and you'll get an idea of my dance ability.  Not being a great dancer has never stopped me from breaking out into random dance moves.  Often times, I will put on my IPod, or turn the stereo up and have my own dance party. 

My husband isn't a great dancer either so I don't feel that I am holding him back.  On our wedding day, we stumbled through U2's All I Want is You.  As awkward as it was, it was the best six minutes of my wedding day.  Because even though I can't dance, I love to dance.

Early in our marriage money was tight.  Music and dance became a way for the family have fun and connect.  We would have Friday night dance parties with the kids.  It was so cute to watch our little blond ragamuffins dancing to their favourite songs.  Later, once the kids were put to bed, the tempo would slow, and the music would get turned down. John and I would have the dance floor to ourselves.  Our Friday night dance parties are some of my sweetest memories of our life together. 

We still have family dance parties, they are just more random now.  Just the other evening we cranked up the tunes and danced for an hour or so.  My boys and I cut up the rug.  The Kid and her Dad didn't get up to bust a move, but I could tell that they were both enjoyed the nostalgia of the moment.  The evening ended with a slow dance.  Charlie and I danced to  U2's One. 

Our dance parties that remind me how sweet life is.  I will hold these memories close to my heart forever.  I have blessed - with two left feet and a family loves my quirky moves.

Cottage Life

After Dad's birthday lunch, we raced home from the restaurant to pack the Durango for an over night stay at  a friends cottage.  We had been warned to bring the four wheel drive because the road into the cottage is steep and tricky to maneuver.  It was a tight squeeze to get the five of us and our gear into the SUV, but we managed.  I was surprised that I enjoyed drive. I think the awesome play list Hubby made for the trip helped well, that and the 2 glasses of wine at lunch.  Plus,  I knew that the three and a half hours of "downtime" with my family was much needed.   

  The cottage road was as treacherous as promised.  The hills were as steep as I expected.  The narrow road was covered in a layer of ice and snow (not expected), with steep embankments on either side (also not expected.)  Finally after a twenty minute white knuckled drive, I was able to exhale when we arrived at Dave and Christine's cottage. 

  Nestled amongst the tall trees with the embankment acting as a cradle, the cottage is part of community of about four vacation homes.  Looking up at the trees makes you feel small.  The cottage itself is bright, spacious and beautiful, but still felt cozy, warm and friendly.  Just like my cottage growing up. 

  I started thinking about the magic of cottage life.  What is it about the cottage that makes everyday routines so special?

  Cottage life is all about simple pleasures.  It's about family and friends and leaning on each other for support and entertainment.  It's about telling stories, sharing memories, and making new ones. Cottaging is about exploring, finding adventure, about relaxing.  Cottaging brings you back to nature, and reminds you that you and your problems are part of a bigger story unfolding just as it should. 

 

sharing some laughs

the men

craft time

Dad's Birthday

Saturday,  the whole fam damily celebrated my dad's 70th birthday. Recently my father remarked to me that if he lives to see ten more birthdays he would consider himself lucky. Seventy. Ten years. The thought of it takes my breath away, and not in a good way.

I wouldn't call myself a daddy's girl, but I suppose I am.  Even though I can't remember the last time or even a time period where I ever called him Daddy.  Athough I'm sure I did when I was little.

It's hard to put our relationship into words. Maybe because there hasn't been too many words. Neither one of us are very good at laying our hearts on the line. To be honest, we haven't needed a lot of conversation.   He loves me and is proud of me.  I feel it, no need for words.

 

i love this picture.

blowing out the candles with his grandsons.

Family Day 2011

A few years ago, the provincial government gave Ontarians a statutory holiday in February, Family Day.  It's no secret that family means everything to me, so a holiday celebrating family is a blessing.  This year, Hubby is on call for Family Day, so we held our own Family Day this past weekend. 

Like last year, we went for a winter hike at Valens conservation area.  The family picture on my blog header is from family day 2010.  I was so surprised to see many - okay around six or seven trailers camping.  We even spotted a couple camping in a tent!  The boys had so much fun throwing snow balls at each other.  I am proud to say that I was the only one who did not get hit with a snow ball.  I guess my boys know not to mess with Mommy.  John wasn't so lucky. 

We didn't build this snow fort, but it was pretty cool to check it out.  Someone obviously spent a lot of time and effort making it. 

My sweet Kiddo Kenzie

Us - taken by The Kid

Me and my Girl. I was cracking up when I uploaded these pictures; take a look at how bundled up I am compared to the rest of the family.  I am such a wimp.

We did a lap around the campsites, and then went to the lookout. 

Me and my Guys: a few less layers on me.

my world

our traditional family day self portrait - camera perched on top of the hood of the dodge.

When were tuckered out when we got home, so we rented a few movies.  Alpha and Omega, and Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark.  After movies, we had home made pizzas for dinner.  It was a great day, spent with my favourite people. 

mmmm pizzas!

365 Project - October 7 - 10

October 10 - An Old Friend - Sweet Callie, my mothers 12 year old German Sheppard dog wasn't feeling well when we went over to visit for Thanksgiving dinner. Poor Thing - get well soon Callie girl.
October 9 - Family Portrait - I had been plotting and planning our family portrait for a few weeks now. The whole thing did not go as I had hoped. Indoors, the light was low, so I had to adjust the aperture in order to keep the shutter speed high. In doing so, the depth of field was narrow, and the people on the edges of the picture were not in focus. So we went outside. I though this one would be fine, until I uploaded it, and saw that there is still a focusing problem. I am really disappointed with the whole thing and plan on getting everyone together for another photo shoot.

October 8 - Twirled Spaghetti - Nothing says comfort food like a spaghetti dinner!

October 7 - Weekly Self Portrait - Metamorphosis - I felt like a butterfly coming out of her cocoon today after my hair cut.