13 happiest moments of 2013

Here are my happiest memories of 2013 in pictures:

Disney World with my husband, kids, and parents (April). When we went 5 years ago, my daughter and I had a meltdown in the happiest restroom on earth, but this time, even though the official story is that we're both too old to believe in fairies, we felt the magic.



Attending the Sage Hill Poetry Colloquium to work and birdwatch with Don McKay, who, it turns out, believes I'm a poet (May).


Being in Prairie Fire (July) because you have to admit, that's pretty cool.



My 40th birthday party (July) planned by my loving husband and attended by poets, autism moms, church friends, mentors, and crazy cousins alike. Here I am with Sally Ito, laughing at other people's poetry, not because it's bad, but because it's about me.



And of course, my shiny birthday present from my parents.



Camping at St. Malo, Falcon Lake, and West Hawk (below). I live in a sunny province of lakes and horizons.



Dancing (badly) and hanging out with my Froese family at my cousin's wedding (August).



 

Reading my "To make an Aspie" poem with jazz trumpet and bass at Thin Air (September).


Dancing with Barbara Schott (centre) of Prairie Fire (who remembered publishing me as soon as she heard my name), Marjorie Poor (right) who always makes me smile, Margaret Sweatman, and Jennifer Still at the CV2 Undead party (October).


My disabilities article Can I give you a hug? (October), the highest trending mbherald.com story in 2013, that's being used by churches of all denominations as a guide for building inclusion and that brought me closer to delightful parents like Jeannette (below with her son Donovan).


 

Hope Centre Ministries all-day photo shoot with my husband (November). Some of the adults with disabilities we photographed had never had a professional photo taken before. As you can tell, they were a joy to capture.

My children's successes, which include: for K, a provincial science fair bronze medal, the lead in the school play, an award for creative writing, a certificate for honour roll with distinction, and his first 15-mionute presentation (on aircraft engines) at air cadets - which he too claims as his bravest moment of the year. And for G, staying on stage through the whole school concert (last year, we celebrated the success of staying up for a single song), a brilliant dramatic performance in her Sunday school Christmas drama, composing and performing a piano piece at the church Christmas Eve service, and no meltdowns over Christmas presents.


And of course, my Lily, who makes me happy every day of the year even though when I got her two years ago, I didn't like dogs.

 

There are also some things I can't photograph, such as finding a spiritual director and a massage therapist who helped keep me breathing normally in the less-than-happy moments.

All in all, it was a good year: I danced, I wrote, I was loved.



And that's what it's all about

We just returned from our first camping trip of the season, and our first trip ever with dog. I was afraid she'd bark at every squirrelish smell the whole night long. Besides ripping my leash-arm off every time another dog went by (Ooh, over here: friends!), Lily did pretty well. She slept on the bench until the first time I poked my head up. Then she whined and whapped her tail on the cupboards until one of us lifted her onto our bed (like an infant all over again, except for the tail bit).

Saturday was rainy but we were prepared: we'd rented a movie (The Adventures of Tin Tin) to watch on the laptop, and packed lots of drawing paper, books, and games. And cookies. Sunday we hung out at the beach (in our sweatshirts) watching K dig trenches and G chase butterflies. And we sat around the fire making blueberry pie (pie filling in white bread), eggs in a blanket, and of course, s'mores.

Here are a few quotables:

After the post-Ritalin-crazies, during which K and G read Calvin and Hobbes comics aloud and repeated silly phrases over and over, G told me, "I have a great brother - I didn't use to think so, but he is really funny!"

Walking back from brushing our teeth, K sighed, "There's no place I'd rather be." "Not even on an airship?" I asked. He just laughed (because we both know an airship would be way cooler).

As G and I were drawing faces of men with purple Mohawks and one-eyed women in Santa hats, she giggled and exclaimed, "I'm going to remember this forever." 

And that, my friends, is why I spend a week packing so I can sleep in an ice-cold, sand-covered 8x15 box, half a mile from the nearest bathroom. It's about being together. All five of us. 

Top 11 blessings of 2011

As I reflect on this New Year's Eve, may I present to you Plaiditudes' Top 11 Blessings of 2011:

11. Thanks to the ones that brung ya (and me): 

Okay, this one isn't new, but I as they get older, I appreciate my parents and in-laws more and more. Mom S with her love pats and fussing over us, Dad S's encouragement and confidence in me, my Dad with his sense of humour and desire to help (and the way K is his "co-pilot"; hopefully someday little G will be his co-something special too). And my Mom, because for better and for worse, she's that voice in my head and I wouldn't be me without her. They've had a few health scares in recent years, and I treasure every day we have together.

10. Yay for me!

Health and Heart winning 2nd place for Canadian Church Press Christian column of the year went by unnoticed, at least in Christian Week, but it was an affirmation to me that what I'm doing is valuable. I explored more personal, controversial, near-to-my-heart topics this year, particularly in the area of mental illness (schizophrenia, borderline personality, and depression), and had the pleasure of interviewing some dear friends.  

9. Who says the internet makes you antisocial? 

The Autism Winnipeg Facebook group has put me in touch with some wonderful parents in my area for support and friendship, both for us and our children. G just had a play date with a new friend we met through Facebook, and it went well, so three cheers for technology!

8. How do I love poetry, let me count the groups...

I finally got the nerve to attend poetry readings, particularly Speaking Crow at Aqua Books (soon to be moved to Pop Soda) the first Tuesday of every month, but also Writers' Guild events and McNally book launches. The Blue Pencil workshop with Jennifer Still was so encouraging, and I've started a poetry group with another writer to comment on each other's work. I had a couple lovely coffees with Sarah Klassen (still my favourite), and through their books, I feel like I've gotten to know local poets Ariel Gordon, Sally Ito, and Di Brandt. So great to be part of a writing community!
   

7. Come on baby light my marshmallow

We bought our pop-up camper at the end of 2010, but this was our first full summer of swearing sweating as we set it up under the shady oaks of campgrounds around our beautiful province. The only major mishap was the breaking of the bike hitch on the train tracks in Morris. We enjoyed a sunny, mosquito-free summer of bonding as a family around the campfire.

6. So long and thanks for all the funding
We are so grateful that we finally received Level 2 EA funding for G for Grades 4, 5, and 6. The process of painting your child with horns just to earn necessary services stinks, so I'm glad I don't have to go there again for a few years. So far, Grade 4 is much smoother than Grade 3, so: yippee!

5. A dog by any other name would smell too

In September we picked our Lily. T should have gotten a picture of me leading her out of the Humane Society: I had the deer in the headlights, oh crap, what have I gotten myself into-look down pat. But she's lovely. She sheds, she digs, she chews, but she's also very quiet, affectionate, and trainable. No regrets here.

4. Sleeping with the Paparazzi 

This is the year I got into poetry and my hubby got into photography. Big time. Unfortunately, his little hobby is a tad pricier than mine. Semi-pro camera, 40 mm lens, zoom, camera bag, tripod, blah, blah...versus...my pen. I win and you owe me something pretty. He's done a few family shoots, so that helps pay for all the photographic "necessities." And hey, he's happy.

3. Very good, young Padawan, but you still have much to learn

My most exciting news of the year is that I'll be mentored for the next five months by award-winning poet Meira Cook. We meet for the first time next week. Have I told you today how excited I am?

2. Still working for a living

I am soooo grateful that my one-year maternity leave position at the Herald that could have ended this summer was extended till next June. I love being part of the creative process of putting together a beautiful, thought-provoking, community-creating magazine, I love the flexibility of putting in my 65 hours per month from home/office/when the kids are in school/I have a sitter, and I love bringing home a regular pay cheque!

1. And the academy award goes to...the Academy

The best thing to happen to our family this year was a new school for K. Words can't describe how well he's doing or how grateful we are to his teachers. He's now in the classroom all day, participating in group discussions and independent work, even in math, like everybody else. No longer wandering alone at lunch, he's now playing street hockey in the parking lot with his classmates. He made a marvelous Moroccan professor in the social studies fair, and was very proud to receive an honour roll award for his 88 percent average in the first term. It's wonderful to see him smile every day when he steps off the bus.

Hope your 2012 is full of love, support, and poetry (or love, sports, and punk music, whatever turns your crank).  

Happy New Year!

Babes in waterland

T and I both took last Friday off work to pack the camper for the long weekend. It's a good thing we packed DVDs, games, and books, because we were stuck inside the camper while the rain poured all day and night on Saturday.

When the sky cleared, the worms were out, and my G was gathering them by the armload.

K has always had unique scientific fascinations: the mechanics of pipe organs, the cell structure of leaves, the nutritional value of dandelions. When he was a preschooler, he begged me for welding equipment. Now he's taking up crochet. Like I said, not your average boy.

G's never had much for special interests, unless you count Teletoon Retro and Barbie.com. The "I'm too cool for this activity" attitude that teenage girls get, she's had since preschool. The only way you can tell she liked something is if she whines "That was too short!" when it's done.

Which is why it was so fun at the campground to watch her, every chance she got, rain or no rain, collecting worms and slugs (while her brother and I sat in the dry camper and made friendship bracelets).

The first night before the rain started, she found a bug in the water and showed it to a dad on the playground. "It's a baby dragonfly. They live in the water for the first part of their life before they learn to fly."

The next time she found a baby dragonfly, she ran across the nearly empty beach yelling, "What do you know about baby dragonflies? Let me tell you!"

I don't know how many people she taught, but when she skipped to the bathroom, the people around a fire pit called out, "It sounds like a horse galloping by, but it's G!" I had no idea who they were.

"Your a regular marine biologist," I told her on a sunnier Sunday as she lined up snails along the beach.

"What's that?" she said.

"Someone who studies water animals. Or maybe you're an entomologist, one who studies bugs."

"What do you call someone who's both?" 

"Um, 'Both'? There isn't a word for both at once."

"Does that mean I'll get to wear a white lab coat and walk around saying 'Hmm, very interesting'?"



Yes. You'd look great in a lab coat. But for now, that raincoat is much more practical.

Just till you learn to fly.

A time to love

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven...

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love...
time

I don't like getting flowers. Oh, I love flowers. I spend hours playing in my beds of daisies, roses, lavatera, petunias, and flax. But I don't love receiving bouquets because I don't have a lot of counter or table space. And most cut flowers come in my least favourite colours: pink, orange, and purple. My kids ensure there's enough mismatched clutter on every flat surface without anyone sticking vases of orange everywhere. I feel guilty, but when I stare across the table at flowers where the face of my husband should be, inside I'm chanting: "Die. Die." (To the flowers, not my husband.)

And I don't always like getting hugs. Sometimes it feels like I'm being held captive (particularly if they come when I'm in the middle of something), other times it feels like bugs crawling on my skin. I love the thought that comes with a hug: "Oh, he or she must really care about me," so I don't want people to stop doing it. But the feeling is sometimes kind of icky.

I don't always like complements, either. If they are specific ("You have soft hands." "I loved your story on kids with anxiety disorders."), I know the person has thought through it, and I assume they are sincere. but if their praise is too general ("You look nice." "You are a good writer."), I wonder if they really mean it or if they have a motive for their flattery. (Incidentally, parenting experts say we should be as specific as possible in our praise to children: "Your floor looks so clean" sinks in farther than "Good girl!" Maybe I think like a kid.)

So, if you are up on your love languages, you'll know that mine is not gifts, meaningful touch, or spoken words.

I have many friends who care about me. I can call them for prayer. They ask how I'm doing. They hug me every Sunday at church. I feel loved.

And lonely. Because my love language is time.

Most of my friends are married with several kids, a full time job, a house (in many cases, on the other side of town), community and church involvements, and extended family (maybe even parents or grandparents needing care). The one thing they don't have is time.

Unless...they are campers. Camping is all about time. Things we normally rush through, like cooking, washing dishes, making beds, are slowed, simplified, and done together. We have time to gather stones, time to speak, time to embrace, time to stop in the middle of the highway and take photos of a giant snapping turtle, who is also very slow.


We bought a camper trailer this fall. It's old. It's cramped. The first time we set it up at a campsite was in the dark, in the freezing cold, with both kids running wild. The second day we broke the light fixture (wiring was worn) and two flashlights. We bought another one at the campground store. And we broke that too (kids mistook it for a lightsabre). We were dark. We were cold. We were together. And I'm glad.


A while back, I asked my pastor to pray that I would make a new friend. Lucky me, I met a camper.

My kids get along with her kids. My kids get along with their dog. Our husbands have things in common (Blah, blah, Mac OS, blah, blah, Windows updates). We spent the weekend together in the bush collecting rocks, roasting marshmallows, and taking pictures of creeks and waterfalls. (And dragging angry turtles off the highway by the tail.) I don't know what we'll do next.


But we have time.