Never Forget.

I have refused to watch TV this week. I know that there have been countless shows reflecting/speculating/remembering this date 10 years ago. I know exactly where I was when 'IT' happened. I was in our living room eating breakfast and cradling my belly...I was pregnant for the first time and blissed out. Until I realized what was happening. Then for the next 4 hours I watched as the world as I knew imploded. People falling to their death, reports of more plane crashes and on and on. And I wondered how we could even think of bringing another life into this crazy world.

Within that first day, the media had crowned the World Trade Center as "Ground Zero". For days after we saw footage of the utter devastation of that area. There was no life and no hope. Five years ago I visited Ground Zero with my youth group. A raggedy group of teens and young adults, at 11:30pm in New York stood at Ground Zero and wept. Five years later the site still had the power to turn a group of Canadians into a snotty weepy mess. You never forget Ground Zero.

But for me, Sept 11th brings other memories to the forefront. 10 years ago on this date I was pregnant. We had just told our family and we were so excited! It had been a bit of a journey for us and we felt beyond blessed. 2 weeks later, I had my own Ground Zero. Our baby had died inside me and we only found out through an early ultrasound by accident. I was in the hospital for 2 days for surgery, then home to recover for a week. But really, inside, was Ground Zero...total devastation. I actually don't remember much of the months between Sept 2001 and June 2002. It was like everything that I knew was blown to bits and I didn't even know where to start to pick up the pieces.

In no way am I comparing what happened to me to what happened in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania. But what struck me today was the process of rebuilding that has taken place over the 10 years in the USA and in me.

Without a doubt, the events of Sept 2001 have shaped me. Both events rocked me to the core in terms of rethinking what life in this world looks like. What faith looks like. What family means.

But. BUT. I think I've come out stronger. Scarred to be sure, but stronger. I learned how to be with someone in grief. That companionable silence is better than empty words. The need to honour life in its many shapes and forms. The sensitivity never to ask if someone when they are having kids, if they are having more or if they are pregnant. And the general awareness that life is fragile.

September is a remembering kind of month for me. Never Forget.

Packing and Purging

August was a blur of packing and purging. We moved from a space of 2200 sq. feet to maybe 1300 sq. feet. That meant a ton of furniture, toys and various other items needed new homes, including our piano. The girls needed to get rid of 2/3 of their toys and stuffies. That was a fun conversation with Pookie who declared that each of her stuffies were special to her! They did great though and are loving having their own bedrooms. Plus with a big backyard we got them a trampoline. Wow, that may have been the best investment ever...hours of entertainment and activity. Bear definitely loves it more since she is less interested in watching TV and more interested in moving and playing.

As for the purging, it meant some selling, a lot of donating to various charities and some dumping. (I really hated sending some much to the dump, but what else to do?) For me, the purging was the most rewarding. There is a sense of order and more of a balance of daily use stuff and seasonal stuff, with a lot of memory items that I need to sort through. There are still some boxes in storage that I need to go through, but it is strange...I feel less burdened by our belongings than ever before. Quite freeing actually.

The highlight for me in the chaos of moving/cleaning/packing/unpacking, was the chance to give Hubby a hard time for the sheer amount of clothes he has. I'm pretty good with getting rid of clothes if they become worn out, whether I've gained/lost weight or just don't like it. For a guy that wears t-shirts and shorts/jeans to work, and slightly nicer t-shirts and jeans for home, having so many other clothes was ridiculous...plus the fact that as he continues to work at construction, he is getting skinnier, but with huge muscles. Half his clothes can't fit over his shoulders and arms anymore! So out they went and our closet looks good.

Lots of folks ask if we regret our decision...I look around my family and see 2 girls loving their bedrooms, trampoline and living close to their auntie, I see a husband who now feels less of a burden in terms of financially providing for his family and I see a beautiful house space with lots of light. So far, so right.

Blowing the dust off...

Wow this space is looking a little neglected. Sorry about that. Suddenly summer arrived and blogging went out the window.

That plus a few minor changes in our lives...

So, this isn't a catch up blog post, but rather a preview of what's to come.

Blog titles brewing in my head, not necessarily in any order:

Packing and Purging
Moving: The ultimate workout
Unpacking
Body image, what is my problem?
Compost Theology
A book deal? That is ridiculous!
A look toward the Fall
A new family member
Crazy and how I deal with it. A look at the process.

See you soon!

Not so good with the Letting It Go...

It has become glaringly obvious to me that I lack a certain parenting gene. To be clear, I actually lack a lot of parenting genes. I am a schizophrenic parent, loving and kind one minute, a raving lunatic the next. Then I read ACJ's post on God as a parent and realized that God kinda is too...especially in the Old Testament. It must have something to do with the whole Love and Grace thing.

Anyways, the gene I desperately lack is the "Letting it Go" gene. You know, the gene that lets you survey your parenting domain with sereneness, embracing the chaos and beauty around you without batting a eyelash. Lots of my friends have this gene. I asked one good friend who has five kids how she does it and she replied that she doesn't even hear it. Doesn't hear it??? How is that even possible? It is like I'm wired to notice/see/hear EVERYTHING! And once I hear/see/notice it, I can't not engage. (I know, a double negative. Whatever.)

I have noticed this lack of gene in the last months when the girls have suddenly decided that everything the other does is purposely designed to RUIN THEIR LIVES. Like breathing. Or looking. Or existing. I'm pretty sure that the girls' bickering non stop is only slightly less painful to me than taking one of Hubby's power tools and drilling straight into my head. And as someone who can't let go, by the eighth hour of being awake and together with them makes me less than an ideal person to be around.

I think that if I can at least emulate the characteristics of the Letting It Go gene, every one's lives will be much better. Maybe I should go and re-read the Old Testament for a model of how God freaks out, then loves, and lets stuff go. You know, just for kicks and giggles and parenting help.

How does your garden grow?

At Christmas and my birthday I received seeds, books and other garden stuff. I dreamt and planned for weeks what I would grow and designed and redesigned my garden. Then we had the Noah's ark version of spring where it rained until mid June. Way past prime planting season. On the few dry days we did have, I planted peas, carrots, lettuce and Good Friday potatoes...most of which rotted in the ground. I lamented to Hubby that all that we would have these year was peas (which loved the cold damp), potatoes and garlic. All my seedlings that flourished in my warm, dry solarium succumbed to blight and rot when transplanted into the never ending rain,

Then, finally the sun showed up. And Bear and I got our first harvest! She was especially proud of her potatoes!

8 Years Old.

My first born is eight. 8! This may be one of my favorite pictures of Pookie. She is growing into such a beautiful girl, inside and out. She can be so kind and loving, thoughtful and generous. We are beginning to see glimpses of the woman she may be...Strong willed and articulate for sure, but also fierce and loyal. She keeps us on our toes with her intellect and desire to learn and know everything. She has faced challenges in learning this year with a good attitude and the desire to learn despite of it. We are blessed to be raising this girl!

Me and my Dad in Law

A couple of days ago I spent some quality time with my father in law...moving 6000 pounds of dirt, rock and turf. Good times eh?

Here's what happened. My sister and partner bought a house. The house has some ISSUES. The biggest one right now is the perimeter drainage. And let me tell you, I have talked more about drainage these past few weeks than I care too. Part of putting in perimeter drainage is removing all the dirt around the foundation of your house. Which, by the way, is a stinkin' huge amount of dirt! So for the past month or so, my sister has had huge mounds of dirt sitting in their front yard. Not so pretty. So on Monday, me and Dad decided to do something about it.

A word about my in laws...they are pretty awesome. I'm not gonna lie, when I first met them 15 years ago, they scared the sh@t out of me. They had come down to the ghetto where me and Hubby(who was not my hubby at the time) were interning. Shortly after that, Hubby brought me up to a family gathering. We walk in and everyone stops talking to look at us. This is saying quite a bit because Hubby's clan is LOUD! And there are a lot of them. To say that I was a little intimidated is a bit like saying giving birth hurts just a little bit. As we left the gathering, Hubby's Beppe (grandmother) and matriarch of the family looked me, grabbed my face, kissed me straight on the lips and loudly announced that she liked me, that I was good for Hubby and that I should come back. ( a side note, Hubby's clan are kissers...but that is a whole other post!) It also probably helped that I come from Dutch stock as Hubby's parents are 100% Dutch, off the boat as children. Of course, because my parents immigrated as adults, I like to say I'm actually more Dutch since I speak/understand the language and grew up going to Holland and Hubby went for the first time with me after we were married.

I digress.

So, Monday we announced to Mom and the girls that we are going to do the dirt moving and it shouldn't take too long. Famous last words. We head over to my sister with a borrowed trailer and start shoveling the first load. In about 45 mins we realize that this trailer is not going to work. But we had already loaded it with dirt. So I get on the phone and called a rental place, we head over there to pick up a new trailer. Then we need to take the dirt out of the first trailer and move it to the second trailer. Then we find out that the landfill won't take this dirt. So we have to find an alternate place. I find one, call them and get the address to dump the dirt. Not until we are driving around an industrial park do we realize that they gave us the wrong address. I call back and they are apologetic. They gave us their HQ address instead of the dump site address. Brilliant. Turns out, the dump site is just across the river from us, instead of almost into the city. So after almost 3 hours, we finally offload our first load. Back to my sister's house for the second load, did it in an hour. By this time we were already past our time that we had promised Mom and the girls, so we headed back to the house. It was empty, so we made lunch in 5 mins and booked outta there so we wouldn't incur the wrath of the girls and Mom. After loading up the third trailer full, we were both moving slower. We looked at the never ending pile and decided that it was just too bad, the rest was my sister's problem. The final tally from the wieght scales was 5989 pounds of dirt...which really is like us moving 12 000 pounds since we had to both load and offload the dirt each time.

Up until this point of our 13 year marriage, I have never spent that much time alone with my father in law. He worked a lot up until this past year as a big boss electrician building huge hotels and various other buildings. He is an amazing Pake (grandfather) to his six grand kids, a very supportive father to his four kids and three daughters in law and loving husband to Mom. He told me when Hubby and I got serious about getting married that not calling him Dad was not an option and that I needed to get over it. He is generous to our family and makes sure we know that we are an integral part of the clan though we are separated by 3 provinces. We share a love of reading and a competitiveness around card playing. And we bicker with each other a lot.

Hubby is a lot like his dad. This has become more obvious over the years, and now especially since Hubby is in construction. Watching the two of them ponder drainage at my sister's house made me realize what a good family I married into. Not because of their exceptional building skills, but because of their work ethic, commitment to family and faith and their enjoyment of life in general.

By the end of the day with Dad, we were speaking in the same tone and rhythm of each other and we still can't move without some sort of join and muscle pain..but I wouldn't trade my day with Dad for anything. Except maybe for a massage.