Little voices, tiny hands. Baby hair still wisps, framing round faces. Wide-eyed. They move, and squirm, roll and tumble. And I try to quiet them, but they are alive with energy. Full of life. We read on the blue rug, I’ll Love You Forever. As I begin to form words on the tongue, I can …
It is a breathtakingly beautiful day outside. I send the Fearless Foursome outside for some fresh air and exercise. What I wish I could write about this experience is this: Everyone played in harmonious co-operation whilst enjoying some excellent winter recreational activity while tromping around in the sparkling snow. What really happened: Everyone proceeded to …
I’m doing double-duty tonight. Husband lies feverishly curled up in the fetal position on the couch under that stringy, blue blanket that has seen better days. While the girls and I tiptoe past like fervent mice on a scavenger hunt. Then, on up the stairs to bedtime routines and tuck-ins. I haven’t done the bedtime …
He sits beside me. Calm, quiet-like. In between me and his father. I have just nestled myself into a seat, in a row of black chairs connected by a small hinge along one side. We call them a pew. That’s church speak. They’re really just uncomfortable, black chairs with a slight cushion to ease the …
Sometimes (just a wee tiny bit…), I wish I was her. You know her. That girl. That girl, who seemingly has it all together. Who’s all that and then some. Whom I admire from afar. I’ll admit it. I read her books, her articles, her blogs. I see her out and about, I watch her …
I have been fascinated and greatly inspired by the portraits, pictures and photographs other people have taken and posted on-line over the holidays. A slew of pictures came across my Facebook feed over the past couple of weeks with beautiful pictures of homes and décor, along with gorgeous family pictures and portraits of beautiful children …
“Now, we all know what kind of person Mary was. She was quiet and gentle and kind, and the little girl who plays Mary should try to be that kind of person. I know that many of you would like to be Mary in our pageant, but of course we can only have one Mary. …
In wake of the recent tragedy in Newtown, Conneticutt, U.S.A., there have been waves of anger and sorrow washing over us all. Young and old. Rich and poor. Believer and non-believer. Pain spares no one its icy grip; it holds us ransom with vice-like shackles. The world over, we are united in our grief. And …
When tragedy strikes, we want answers. The finite being inside demands to know. Why? Why did this happen? What went wrong? Who is to blame? We want to know where to point the finger. Do we point fingers at government for lack of meaningful action and other verbose double-speak? Do we blame political structures which …
We sit, huddled tightly together in the cramped space of a corner. The blinds are darkly drawn, the door is shut. Locked. Little bodies press in close together to the wall. I place my body as a barrier along the tips of their tiny feet, all the while smiling into anxious children’s eyes and modelling …
I am driving our van toward my second Christmas concert of the day (third if you count this morning’s rehearsal), when I become aware that I don’t have Youngest Daughter on board. At the moment of realization, I am at the rink picking up Second Oldest from ice-skating junior’s, as I have just left piano …
While driving in the van towards our weekend ‘three-hour’s worth of figure skating club’, Littlest One says to one and all, “Let’s decorate the tree tonight and then hold hands and sing around the tree.” Yes, let’s. The image conjures up just about every stereotype I have regarding Christmas but which seems to ironically fail …