13 years ago today ...

Was my due date for the 4th Minion of Chaos™. It was also my Mum's 61st birthday, and exactly 10 weeks since my father had passed away.

No pressure, or anything, right?

Things seemed a little 'off' that morning- enough that I was concerned for my baby. Normally, if the baby wasn't moving much, all I had to do was poke my belly, and the baby would wake up and 'poke back' (usually a kick). This morning, however, there no response to my pokes and prods.

I've always been a bit of a birth nerd, and so had read enough books and textbooks to know that this wasn't a good sign. That, coupled with a few other things (namely, heightened paranoia due to grieving), was cause enough for me to call my Doctor and ask Himself to take us to the hospital, pronto.

Baby started kicking a little en route, but the kicks seemed feeble, so even though I was relieved to know that my baby was definitely alive, I was still concerned that things were not great.

Before too long, we were in a room on the "high risk" ward, and while by then my baby was moving and squirming consistently, there was still some concern about the amount of bleeding I was having, which was certainly heavier than I'd had with any of my other babies. Eventually, my doctor decided the bleeding really wasn't anything alarming, I definitely wasn't in labour, and after having an ultrasound (my first ever, in fact), we were all assured that everything was just fine, and baby had just been sleepy (or, more accurately, stubborn- but I digress).

I wasn't in labour, but I was 3-4 cm dilated, so my doctor offered me a choice; I could go home, and would probably have the baby in the next few days, or she could break my water, and we'd "see what happens" (I'm not even kidding, those were her words!).

Now, if you read the opening paragraph, you might be able to see what influenced my decision in that moment:

It was my due date.    It was my Mum's birthday.    Mum was not looking forward to her birthday, because my Dad had just passed away ...

A grandchild born on her birthday might brighten things for her. 

It's also worth noting that my cousin's firstborn child was born on our grandmother's birthday, the year that my grandfather had passed away; and my father always thought it was the greatest thing, the best gift his Mum could have received that year.

And hey, there was the added incentive of not being 40 weeks pregnant anymore ...

So I opted for option "B". The doctor ruptured the membranes, and 75 minutes later, at 2:57PM CDT, our biggest baby was born.

A boy.         BIG boy.   He was 4.77 kilos (10 lbs 8.1 oz) and 60 cms (23.5") long.

He very quickly earned the name of Sir Squeaks-A-Lot, because he would make the cutest little squeaking sounds while he nursed. This often got shortened to "Sir Squeaks", and as he got older, to "Squeaky boy", and eventually it was further shortened to just "Squeaker", or "Squeak" (which we still call him today, but not in front of his friends!).

I am biased, of course, but he was a beautiful baby. He still is beautiful. I am often surprised by how much he reminds me of my Dad, only with blue eyes and fairer hair.

 

He was born under the sign of the bull, and is a true Taurus, through and through. You cannot make this boy (pardon me, Young Man!) do anything he does not wish to do. He won't fuss or whine. that's not his style. Nope, not a complaint from him about it. He just won't *do* it.

He's also very laid back, and funny. He loves to make statements that begin "Hmm ... I wonder what would happen if you were to ...??" (Insert any unusual idea you can think of here).

And this? This is what he does when you remind him that school portraits cost money, so "Please smile nicely this year" ...

 

That's right, you get his "Stephen King" impersonation. He is his mother's child, after all, warped sense of humour and all.

He's quiet. (You have to watch the quiet ones).

He can be very persuasive, too- there are tales of hijinks with friends who afterwards, couldn't rightly recall whose idea it was to tie a rope to the bedpost and repel down the side of the house ... (It must have been their own idea, surely?)

He's already spoken for, too. You see, my friend Phoebe's elder daughter, affectionately known as "Miss Mim", put her mark on him back when they were wee toddlers ...
 But above all else, he is my Squeak; my sweet, funny boy, who is not just cool; he's Steve Buscemi Cool.

Happy Birthday, Squeaker.

This photo was taken last summer- he claimed he was playing "Peek-a-Boo!", but really, he was just hiding from the camera in such a way that it was hard to be annoyed with him ...

The things they say ... Instalment #3

In case you had forgotten; I do have children other than Boo :-P

The reason he gets mentioned so frequently? Simply put, he is home more than his older siblings, which means I get to spend more time with him.

But the other Minions of Chaos are just as entertaining as their littlest brother.

Teenagers are interesting creatures. They can come across as morose, brooding, even.

They sometimes prefer to give off the impression that they don't want or need you around.

But the truth is, they really do; they put up a prickly exterior as if to see if you truly do love them, warts and all.

There's a trick to getting teenagers to talk- usually it involves getting them alone, and often, somewhere NOT AT HOME. Privacy is key.  I have found that some of the best conversations I've had with my teenagers have taken place while we were in the car.

A recent conversation with The Teenaged Son (aka "The Viking") went as follows;

"Mum, how old was Tigger when she got a debit card?"

(I had to ponder this for a minute or two)

"Hmm, about your age, I guess ... Why do you ask, are you wanting a debit card yourself?"

"Yeah ... "

Now, I'm not saying I'm opposed to him having a debit card, but it's a good idea to be fully aware of the motivation behind some requests ...

"Okay, and why do you want one?"

"Well, because having a debit card kind of makes it easier to pay for things when you're out on a date or stuff like that; you know, as an example."

"Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

(pause)

"So ... is there someone in particular you had in mind for this hypothetical date?"

"Maayybeee ..."

:sniffle:  What happened to my little boy who liked to cuddle on the couch while watching "Little House on the Prairie"?!

They grow up far too quickly ...

The things they say ... Instalment #2

This evening, as I was working on dinner preparations, Boo came into the kitchen, excited to tell me something about his day.

"Hey, Mum, guess what?" (he didn't even wait for my reply) "Next weekend, I get to be in a movie!"

"Really? Wow!"

"Yeah, but a different kind, not like the ones you see in the stores."

"Oh? Still, sounds pretty cool ..."

"Uh huh! and Me and my friends are going to be in it! It's going to be about an alien invasion."

"Wow, that sounds like a fun topic!"

"Yeah, but I'm going to need ... Can I borrow the video camera?"

"You'd need to ask Dad about that, but I'm sure it could be arranged ..."

He then proceeded to tell me all about how he and his best friend are going to be the main characters, and how they'll be best friends in the movie, too.  His character is the youngest of five children, but *his* parents are divorced, and have both moved to another country, so he lives with his 18 year old sister ...

Yeah, totally not a "Drama guy" there, bud.

The things they say ... Instalment #1

Sometimes, the things the Minions of Chaos come out with leave me perplexed. At other times, frustrated.

But most often, amused. Here is one such example, a recent conversation I had with 'Boo', our youngest (he of the Epic Concert evening).

First, a teeny bit of 'backstory';

I am a member of the volunteer executive for our Community Centre, and on Monday evening, we had our monthly meeting.

One of the items was a report on the progress of a *free* drama programme being run out of the centre, geared specifically to 9-12 year olds. Since our Littlest Man is always telling stories with a dramatic flair and seems to enjoy hamming it up in general, I perked up when they mentioned there was still room in the class. It even falls on a night which doesn't conflict with Karate, Police Cadets, or his print-making class ...

"Wow!" I thought, "This would be perfect for Boo! Hope he's still awake when I get home, I can't wait to ask him about signing up!". I could even hear and picture his exuberant response ...

As it happened, he was still awake when I returned home.  In fact, he came downstairs when he heard me come in ...

"Hey, Buddy! How would you like to go to a Drama class at the Community Centre on Thursday evenings?"

His response was not the enthusiastic "Awesome!" I had anticipated.

And here is where I will heed the advice of Mark Twain, and rather than say "The old woman screamed", I will "bring her on, and let her scream."

"No!" he said, without a second's hesitation. My surprise must have been quite evident, as he immediately followed up with;

"It's not really My 'Thing', Mum. I'm not a 'Drama Guy' ... :::: sigh :::: ", he completed this statement with an eye roll, too.

Nope, you're not dramatic at all, Boo, not even a little bit ... ;-)

Man, sometimes this parenting gig is just awesome.

An Evening to Remember

Our youngest son is going to be 10 in September. Being a kid, he has been thinking about and planning for his birthday since just after Christmas.  Oh, who are we kidding? He’s probably been thinking about it since about 10 minutes after his last birthday party ended.
 
But he started speaking about it to ME after Christmas. Being 9, his birthday wishes changed at least once a week. “I would like this!” “I would like that!”. I waited it out, knowing that eventually he would solidify his plans on his own.

Like his mama, he is a big lover of music. He even has a favourite band- Great Big Sea. A few months ago, he told me that what he’d really like the very most in the whoooooollle wide world for his birthday was to go to a Great Big Sea concert.

In the interests of wish fulfillment, I looked into where they might be playing in and around his birthday.  Sadly, their only posted gig for my timeframe was in August, in Newfoundland. Now believe me, this would *not* be a personal hardship to have to travel to Newfoundland, along with my son, in order to take him to see his favourite band ... Financially, however, that is another matter. Driving is too complicated, and flights are rather expensive (for about $300 more, I could take both of us to Ireland. This would not Go Down Well with the other Minions of Chaos, Not At All).

:sigh:  But then came a concert announcement from livenation. Alan Doyle, a member of Great Big Sea, was going on tour to promote his début solo album: “Boy on Bridge”. And there was a date local to us, as well, although it wasn’t anywhere near his birthday.

After some discussions back and forth with the Littlest Man and Himself, it was agreed that this was a pretty decent substitute for the desired concert (there went my personal hope for the trip to The Rock, alas).

Tickets were purchased, and the excitement and countdown began.

The concert was last night, and he showed remarkable self-restraint in only calling me at work once yesterday ... “What time are you coming home, and when are we going to the concert?” was what I heard through the phone line after I said “Hello?”.

As it happened, I got home from work with just enough time to quickly change my clothes, grab the tickets, and grab him. The concert was being held downtown and the doors were set to open at 7PM, so I didn’t want to be cutting our time too fine, in case we had difficulties finding parking nearby.  I ended up finding parking in a parkade one block west of the venue, which I thought was pretty decent.

 

It was precisely at the moment that we exited the parkade that the rain changed from the light drizzle it had been all day into a near-torrential downpour. I’m really not exaggerating here, the streets went from looking shiny from the water, to having puddles stretching half-way across the road.

We didn’t have an umbrella, nor were we wearing raincoats. I covered Boo as best as I could with my hoodie, and we did our best to hop over the puddles.  By the time we got to the shelter of the canopy, we were both pretty drenched. One helpful fellow, at the head of the line, offered us his umbrella (haha, very funny!). We managed to just fit under the end of the canopy, and people who came after us, basically huddled beside us, rather than standing in the wet ...

Not exactly sure how long we had to wait in line, but it probably wasn’t more than 10 minutes or so, and while we were wet, and now cold, too, we were both content to stand and smile at our fellow concert-goers. Everyone watched and cheered (jeered?) loudly at a person’s efforts to parallel park their car in a rather tight spot across the street. They definitely bumped the car behind them, at least twice. The clapping and cheering that ensued gave me reason to believe this wasn’t the first car to attempt to part in this spot, and that said attempts had been the pre-show entertainment for those people who were ahead of us in line (who had probably been waiting an hour).

Before too long, the doors to the hall were opened, and we were able to go inside (and attempt to dry off).  Since we’d been rushing to get out the door, Boo was hungry, so we got into the line for the canteen in the hopes of securing a snack to tide him over. While we were waiting in line, a man approached asking if anyone in the line-up would like a copy of Alan’s CD. Several people, including both myself and the Littlest Man, said “Yes” (I mean, DUH!). He handed a copy to the guy waiting behind us, and another copy to Boo.

And to think I’d assumed he was selling them, and was about to ask him how much they were ...

So by this point, Boo was completely over being wet. After all, he just got a Slush Puppy, a chocolate bar, AND a Free CD!  I quietly pointed out to him that things like that don’t normally happen at a concert, fearing his expectations be put way out of whack by this awesome, yet rare, occurrence ...

He shrugged.

We went into the hall itself to find seats (the tickets said it was “rush seating”- another reason to get there early). The hall used to be a movie theatre, you would enter from under the upper level seats, and the front section was divided from the upper section by an aisle way with a low wall on either side. This was still the basic set-up, only the seats from the lower section have been removed, and for the concert, several round tables had been set up around the edges, with a large area in front of the stage for standing and/or dancing. There didn’t appear to be any tables with spots open, and looking up into the seats, most of the open seats were so far back as to be unsuitable for a small-ish boy to enjoy his first concert, so I suggested to him that we stand up front, instead.

He was reluctant to do this at first, telling me he wanted “to sit to be able to enjoy the concert”, but I pointed out that the free seats in the upper level were pretty far back, and he might not be able to see over other people’s heads. I said “Why don’t we stand up here for now, and decide later?”.

 We ended up standing right in front of the stage, off to our left (which I believe is considered “Stage Right” in theatre terms- but it’s been awhile). Thankfully, we weren’t right in front of the speakers, but we were pretty close ... Boo ran back to the lobby a time or two to get more snacks, and to see if there was a Swag table set up.

Otherwise, we passed the time looking at the instruments on stage- Boo recognized the Yamaha symbol on the drum set, and we mused over whether or not two of the guitars in the guitar rack (there were 4 or 5!) were Takamine guitars (same brand as his guitar teacher). (they were, btw- this boy is definitely his Mama’s kid). Boo was getting restless, wondering when the show was going to start, so I took the time to explain to him that there would be an opening act prior to Alan hitting the stage, and after he asked, explained why there was such a thing as an opening act.

The opening act, Dustin Bentall, hit the stage at about 8PM. Boo was transfixed. It was a great set, and at the end of it, Dustin mentioned he’d be selling CD’s in the lobby after his set. He had two available, and we bought one of each, which he signed for us, personalizing one specifically for Boo.

This concert stuff’s looking pretty good to him now, let me tell you. I’m starting to wonder how anything else he goes to after this will hold up ...

Before we knew it, it was time to go back in for Alan’s set. We resumed our “seats” by the stage, and from our vantage point, we caught a glimpse of his musical hero before he took to the stage.

He had a blast. I had been slightly worried he’d be disappointed, not knowing too many of the songs, but he wasn’t. He danced a little (I think he was worried about looking too silly in front of Mr Doyle), he clapped a lot, he shouted “Whoo hoo!” as appropriate ... All in all, a fantastic set.

He got confused when Kris MacFarlane, who he recognized as the drummer from Great Big Sea, came to the front of the stage where we were standing and offered him his hand. By the time he got over being star-struck, Kris had given up on the handshake, and offered him his drumsticks, instead!

The band left the stage, and the audience started shouting and clapping- I explained the concept of an Encore- and then he got right into that, too. (But he was still awestruck over the drumsticks in his hand).

Of course, the band came back on for an encore, and during their encore set, they called Dustin to come up and play with them. It was during this song that Mr Doyle himself came up to the front of the stage where we were and gave Boo the guitar pick he was using for his mandolin ... (in case you’ve lost track, he has now received: one free Alan Doyle CD, two signed Dustin Bentall CDs, a pair of drumsticks *and* a guitar pick).

 
After the show, Alan came out to the lobby to meet his fans, sign CDs and get his picture taken with people, etc. (Alas, we did not bring the camera- ARGH!) Boo went and spoke some more with Dustin (he was very polite and down to earth, btw). People kept coming up to us and were surprised to see the drumsticks- evidently they had seen the pick hand-off, but not the drumstick one ... Several people asked if Kris had signed the drumsticks (he had not).

We waited patiently in line for our turn to meet Alan and get our CDs signed- by this time, Boo was wondering, loudly (for the benefit of those around him, I’m sure) if he would get in trouble if he was late for school in the morning ... two of the women standing in line beside us turned to him and said he should ask Alan for a note if he was hoping to be able to sleep in. They were teachers, they told us, and they would know if he didn’t. It was quite funny to see his reaction.

When it was our turn to get autographs, Boo smiled hugely and thanked Alan for the pick, and then told him how this had been his first concert ever, and how Great Big Sea was his favourite band. Alan was gracious (though he seemed quite exhausted). “Thank-you, brother”, he said to Boo before we left. 

Sadly, there was no sign of Kris MacFarlane. We decided to ask some of the venue’s staff if Kris might be around to sign the drumsticks, but they said they figured he was already on the bus.

So we headed out to the car, taking the lane beside the building instead of going the way we had come, as it was shorter. As we passed the back lane behind the theatre, we saw a rather large tour bus. I didn’t need to tell Boo what that was about! I suggested we could always knock on the door of the bus and see if Kris was there- he was uncertain, but we decided to “go for it”. I told him the worst that would happen was he wouldn’t be there, or they would tell us to go away...

 But Kris himself opened the door, and came out and chatted with us for a few minutes. He was incredibly friendly, was able to accurately guess Boo’s age (he has two sons himself), and just proved overall that he is, in point of fact, Steve Buscemi Cool.

And yes, he signed the sticks.
 

Now tell me, honestly, is *any* other concert EVER going to be able to touch that, nevermind top it?!

I don’t think so.

Twelve!

Now, really- how did that go by so quickly?

Oh, right- we were busy ferrying children to one activity or another, next thing you know, you wake up and your second youngest child is twelve.

12!

This means that, legally, he can now be left at home alone. He is considered old enough to babysit.

And he probably feels ready to look after other children, too ... But that doesn't mean *I'm* ready for that ...

But I digress. This is about my son, not my inability to 'let go' ...

Squeak, as we often call him, or "Sir Squeaks-A-Lot", as his nickname originally started out, was born (obviously) in the year 2000. He earned his nickname within a day or two of being born, as he was apt to make the cutest little squeaking sound when he was nursing (or just generally happy).

Right from the get-go, he was generally content, but very sure of what he wanted and didn't want- a true Taurus in temperament, he will not be persuaded to do anything *he* doesn't want to do, but he has a natural curiosity and zest for trying new things that is often contagious. He is charismatic, and has a quirky sense of humour.

People flock to him- in the past 2.5 years, he has had to change schools twice (once due to our move, the other because he was entering "middle school"), but each time, he has come home from said new school with at least two new friends, both within the first few days. I envy the ease with which he makes friends, and the way he retains them, too. I realize I am biased, but this kid is truly Steve Buscemi Cool.

In spite of the above description, he is surprisingly quiet- and I always warn people; "You have to watch the quiet ones" ... he is forever listening, observing, and probably coming up with new ways to Rule The World.

Plans for World Domination, I suspect, proceed apace.

This year, his birthday falls on a Saturday, and his master plan is to have a birthday party ON his birthday. He's only inviting a few of his friends- his entire hockey team, and half of his class. I wish I was exaggerating; we sent out 22 invitations.

Wish me luck.

(Ed note: this post was originally written about two hours before the Birthday Extravaganza. For soem reason, it was sitting in my draughts folder, rather than having been published. Evidently, I have not been checking in lately ... oops!)

"Life's but a walking shadow

"A poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more."
(William Shakespeare- "Macbeth")

Yesterday I was planning to blog about my neighbourhood.  My plans were derailed by the discovery of the passing of one of our cats. Himself and I had noticed we hadn't had our constant snuggler in a day or two. We've been sick this week, which probably explains why neither of us had noticed sooner. We spent an hour searching the house for him on Thursday evening, with no luck.

Thankfully, it was Himself, not one of the boys, who discovered him in the basement. the boys were devastated; we'd had him since before the youngest two were born, and our middle son (now nearly 15) was only 10 months old when we got him. He'd been a kitten.

We had a small informal burial service in the back yard; we placed him amongst the lilac trees. Those present took turns placing the dirt back on top of him.

Unfortunately, not everyone was home to participate (but, as embalming isn't an option, we couldn't exactly wait). Our eldest was at work, and our daughter is currently in Chicago with her school band.

I'm not looking forward to having to tell her ...

But I want to end on a positive note- and share with you a photograph of our sweet boy, snuggled up on the couch with our rather large dog.

In which another "simple" project escalates rapidly ...

If you read "l'histoire du sac" (there is an update to this post, btw), you understand by now that no project I decide to undertake *ever* truly remains "simple".

Witness, Exhibit "B";

Our house is, by local standards, rather old. In fact, she turns 100 this year. She came complete with crystal door knobs and brass "backplates" (a fancy technical term I learned while doing the, um, 'research' for this post). Two of the doors have rather ornate backplates, the rest are all very utilitarian.

Here is a photo of one of the decorative backplates, complete with probably 60 years' worth of paint:

A backplate got damaged about 3 months after we moved in. Naturally, it was one of the ornate ones (Murphy's Law ain't got nothing on my four boys).

Equally as commonplace, we did nothing about it for two years. I recently came across the damaged backplate (which had not been on the door since getting damaged- heck, it hadn't been on the door when it got damaged!), and, fueled by my successful (albeit roundabout) restoration of the WWII-era messenger bag, my determination to attend to it was renewed.

So, I first resolved to see if I could find a replacement plate at a local antiques shop where I had previously seen backplates available for purchase, The Old House Revival Company.

And, naturally, I neglected to bring the blinking plate with me (although I had, at least, had the presence of mind to observe that the detail work on it included a fleur de lis).

The staff there were very eager to help me figure out my options once I had exhausted their considerable collection of brass backplates. My son, aka "Sir Squeaksalot", was also very eager to make me part with my money by deciding he really, really liked an antique stereo on display there. Really liked it. Was brave enough to ask a salesperson to ask how much it was*, liked it

*darn it, that technique almost always works on his siblings!!! Once Mum puts the onus on them to ask for details about something they really want, they usually back down.

Turns out, they were planning on putting the stereo into a garage sale, and were only going to be asking $25 for it. His birthday is coming up in just over two weeks- I do believe I see an antique stereo in my future.

But I digress. As helpful as they were, Old House Revival didn't have the backplate I needed. They did remind me, however, that brass is fairly maleable, and I might be able to straighten out the kink without it breaking ...

Onwards.

A few days later, I went over to see the lovely ladies at Vintage Veruca. They were extremely busy, getting ready for their own garage sale, but they were no less helpful than the folks at OHR.

Funnily enough, once they had confirmed that they did not, in fact, have a backplate to match mine (I had since put the darned thing into my bag), one of the ladies told me she used to work at OHR, and they were likely the best place to check for backplates ...

She also affirmed what the folks at OHR had said about being able to straighten out the kink in my existing backplate. In addition, she told me I could strip the paint off the backplate by placing it in extremely hot (read: boiling!) water for ten to fifteen minutes and then peel or scrape it off.



You can probably see where this is going ...



Yup. I did. First of all, I managed to straighten out the kink in the backplate enough to make it once more functional.

Secondly ... well, how about I show you some photos?

Then, after removing all six thousand** layers of paint from the two backplates, just for kicks, I decided to polish them.

(** this may be a slight exaggeration)

 Note the presence of my "assistant" in this endeavour, quite literally placing her mark.

At this point, I might as well restore the other two plates, too- after all, it's a straightforward and simple project, right? ;-)

Family

Families come in all shapes and sizes. Ours is fairly large, or at least it would appear that way (if you go by the reactions we get when people learn how many children we have).

As I sit here, basking in the "post-family gathering clean house" aura that surrounds me, I am once again struck by how utterly blessed we are to have extended family. Particularly, extended family that lives nearby.

We had 18 people in our house for dinner this past Sunday evening, for our "week after Easter" dinner. It was a fantastic evening, all in all.

Just moments before the first of our guests (our eldest nephew and his girlfriend) arrived, it occurred to me that this was the First.

First time we have all been together since my MIL's funeral. I suppose that is significant, but I was glad it hadn't occurred to me much beforehand, and I certainly didn't mention it to anyone that evening.

It seems so strange to have that many people together and still have someone missing. She would have been so happy and proud to see all of her kids and grandchildren together and enjoying one another's company. Even Auntie D, one of her closest friends and godmother to Himself, was able to join us. That was difficult for her, she has been feeling so sad and alone, she told me. She not only lost Laura, whom she'd known for 54 years, she has also lost two other dear friends, all within a few months of each other. Words failed me (which, you might realise, doesn't happen very often). I do hope it did her some good to be with us.

My IL's are as much my family as my own siblings. Given how long Himself and I have been together, that isn't all that surprising, I suppose, but it *is* true, nonetheless. I am the youngest of three, hainvg two older brothers, and Himself is also the youngest of three, but has two older sisters. My older sister-in-law is like the big sister I always wanted to have- she makes me laugh at inappropriate times with her wry humour, always has a ready smile and will kick you in the butt if you deserve it, too. Gotta love that.

My other sister-in-law tends to worry more about being correct and proper, but she, too, loves a good joke, and we still find ways to connect. We all went away for a weekend together a few years ago, myself, both sisters and Mom, no spouses/partners or kids. Interesting times ensued, and it was definitely a weekend I'll never forget.

On this side of our family, we have two nephews and two (living) nieces. They range in age from 28 down to 14- and occasionally they consent to hanging out with their Auntie and Uncle, whether for dinner, a movie, shopping, or what have you. Honestly, this doesn't happen nearly often enough, but I am so grateful that it happens at all- my Aunts and Uncles all lived overseas, so seeing and spending time with them is/was an even rarer treat; I can only hope that our nieces and nephews will look back on the time spent with us half as fondly as I think of spending time with my relatives ...

My eldest brother and his lovely wife have two boys, but they live in another province, so I haven't seen them in a long time (in truth, I haven't even *met* my youngest nephew yet!).

My other brother has no children, but he and his (equally lovely) partner live here in the city, so we try to get together when we can- I know my kids think their Uncle is the coolest guy on the planet, a well-earned title, might I add.

We are not all so fortunate in our lives to have the experience of a close, loving family. If you have one, treasure it. If you do not, consider the Chosen Family in your life- these are those close friends with whom you share a great deal.

I have some chosen family in addition to my "actual" family; amongst them, a friend with whom I am so close, she is like a sister. I often refer to her as such, as it's much easier than explaining. Once, when I was hospitalized for an illness, a nurse, after hearing her lecturing me about making sure I stayed healthy, stated "You two are sisters, aren't you ..."

We both have another mutual friend who is also like our sister- one of those people who drives you crazy and brings so much joy and support, all at the same time. We love her, too.

I also have a bunch of extra kids- I may have given birth to five, but the reality is I have far more children than that ... I can think of at least 4 or 5 children who are not related to me by blood nor marriage who call me either "Auntie" or "Mom", or even both (depending on her mood).




Remember, your family are the people who know how insufferable you really can be ...





 and they love you anyway.