Just Fine

I took Carmen to soccer a week or so ago and it was her first one with a new organization. She’s in U10 now so it’s a bit more involved than the old community league and she doesn’t know any of the girls in the group.

We showed up and she was nervous and quite frankly looked terrified. She shuffled behind the group of girls as they warmed up and she stood, shoulders hunched, hands clasped, eyes downcast for the first 10 minutes or so. When she was on the field she was so uncertain and timid it made me want to cry. I wanted to yell at her to just let loose and play like she can, to get involved, to have FUN for God’s sake, but she carried on softly tapping the ball and staying a step behind.

Afterward she said it was ‘okay’. She had an ‘okay’ time. She said she would do it again next practice too, which I supposed was something.

She went again to soccer practice yesterday and it only took her half the time to start warming up to the idea of the new soccer team, the new group of girls. They were, for the most part, all new to it so she was in good company. Maybe she was starting to realize that. This time, the practice was ‘good’ – a step up from okay at any rate.

I worry so much about her shyness. I worry that she won’t get all she could be getting out of experiences because she’s holding back. The fact that I was (and remain) exactly the same way is irrelevant. I want more for her. Better.

Then this morning I went to the Earth Day assembly at school to support Carmen’s Environment Club. She was a co-emcee for the event and did a fantastic job. I asked her before if she was nervous (as I remember having mini-panic attacks when I had to speak in front of the class let alone the whole school) and she looked at me like I was insane. Why would she be nervous? Why indeed.

I am starting to realize that she’s just fine. Really fine. She doesn’t dive in headfirst but rather takes her time getting used to new things before letting loose. And that’s okay. What’s important is that she’s nervous but she does it anyway. And when she’s in school where she’s comfortable and confident, there are no nerves. Yeah, I guess I can stop worrying, at least about this. She’s going to be just fine. In fact, she already is.

Careful What you Wish For

I dropped my sister, her boyfriend, and my niece off at the airport a few weeks ago for their 3 week trip to Chile. Needless to say they had a lot of luggage. Penny wanted to carry suitcases but they handed her a little backpack instead. She was disappointed. She doesn’t know how good she’s got it!
 

I remember being solely responsible for my own suitcase on family vacations. And that was back before they had nice little handles and wheels for easy hauling. I had the heavy, durable cases that by the end of the trip were often concealing the extra booze my parents wanted to bring back to Canada or my sister’s overflow shoes andclothes that she had bought and couldn’t fit in her own bulging bag. What I’m getting at is it wasn’t easy!

During one holiday in Europe we were late, as we often were, and rushing to make the train in London to get to my Mom’s family in Blackburn. The four of us were running down the station and I, being the youngest at 12 or so, was tripping on my bag (which was nearly as big as I was) the whole way. Desperate to catch up to the bodies that were becoming increasingly smaller as they pulled ahead of me, I grabbed my suitcase, held my breath, and ran with my awkward carrying-a-heavy-bag gait. I ignored the offending case, which by now was banging relentlessly against my bare ankle, and finally made it to the door to board the train with seconds to spare.

I glanced down at my poor ankle, rubbed raw from the continued pounding from the edge of my suitcase. Blood flowed from my ankle bone and pooled in my shoe as the train pulled out of the station. It wasn’t the first or last injury sustained because of tight deadlines and uncooperative luggage, so Penny, consider yourself lucky and take the backpack gratefully! Maybe you’ll never find yourself near tears, wrestling a giant suitcase as you sprint down an English train station. Or at the very least your suitcase will have wheels.

The Nice Experiment

It's hard to be nice. We found that out this month. I charged the kids (and myself) with doing one nice thing every day in December. By about the 10th, the kids had lost steam and interest and I found it difficult to do something especially kind each day.

We didn't set out to do anything incredibly profound; we brought coffee for Ben's teacher and dropped off some secret Santa presents for some special people. We let a woman ahead of us in line as she juggled her shopping as well as her baby, his car seat, and a toddler covered from ear to ear in chocolate. We also helped four different families that were struggling this holiday season.

I was a bit disappointed by the experiment at first. It seemed like we were failing at our random niceness exercise. Then it hit me. I realized that maybe we didn't need to be doing it in the first place.

Ben couldn't report back a nice act for the day, but that didn't mean that he hadn't been doing nice things. Every day he ties his classmate's shoelaces before his own because she doesn't know how to do it herself yet. He shares toys, is considerate of others, and goes out of his way to make sure those around him are happy.

Carmen shrugged when I asked about her nice acts but she too was already doing them. She will stay in at recess to sit with a friend who was not feeling well. She shares her prized possessions -- her books -- with friends who she thinks would enjoy them. She thinks of other people's feelings and is upset when they are sad or hurting or mistreated.

And I live my life on the premise that you reap what you sow, do unto others and all that. I try to be thoughtful and considerate and, although I don't always succeed, I think I am a generally kind, nice person.

Now I know that we don't have to set out to find nice things to do for others. We just need to keep doing what we've been doing. I can't tell you how proud of my family that makes me. We are nice after all!

Shopping Hell -- A Crude Adaption of Jingle Bells

Dashing through the mall

On a shortbread sugar high

Crowds of people pushing,

I think I just might cry.

Bells on store doors jingle

Mocking those who shop,
Just what was I thinking
To even make this stop?

Shopping hell, shopping hell

Shopping all the day.
Oh what fun it’d be to leave
This shopping mall today.

A day or two ago

I thought I had it all
A gift for kith and kin
And no trips to the mall.

But there are gifts outstanding

That I really have to find
So off to fight the shopping folks --
I’ve lost my frickin’ mind!

Shopping hell, shopping hell,

Shopping all the day.
Oh what fun it’d be to leave
This shopping mall today. 

Lines as far as eyes can see

And nothing on the shelves
What I wouldn’t give to have
A slew of shopping elves!

Scowling clerks and workers

Wishing they weren’t here.
They really don't seem to have
An ounce of Christmas cheer.

Throwing elbows, pushing past

This isn’t that much fun!
I guess it’s cash in stockings
For each and every one!

Shopping hell, shopping hell

Shopping all the day.
Oh what fun it’d be to leave
This shopping mall today.

Spa Adventure

So I guess I should have known this spa day wouldn't go smoothly right from the hop. I got a Groupon coupon from a place I'd never been and took my mom along as a birthday present to her. We settled into the chairs to wait and I grabbed their brochure to pass the time. The first thing I saw was:

And I, being the one who made Bryce go get a different brand of pregnancy test to confirm the positive result because the instructions were riddled with typos, should have gotten up and walked out. But I didn't. I figured at least they spelled ladies right -- that was something.

We went in, plopped our feet in the basin of water, and the ladies powered up the massage chairs. I've never felt anything like it -- I was being pounded, karate chopped, and damn near expelled from my chair by an overly aggressive masseuse. With the bar rolling and poking, it was far from relaxing despite the aesthetician's big smile and repeated protestations of "Nice! Nice!" with a convincing nod. When it started squeezing my hips and then nearly violating me with some sort of intrusive bum shot, I quickly found the power button and turned it off. 

The rest of the foot portion went fine and then we went off to get our finger nails done. I told the girl that I don't like my cuticles cut and I can only assume that her English isn't great. I'll have to  learn how to say "Stop!" in Vietnamese. She promptly sliced my finger and I sat there bleeding for a few minutes before she noticed and put some stuff on it to prevent infection. Or at least I hope that's what it was. If I get staph from this I'll be seriously pissed!

She pulled out the clippers and started snipping away at my long, rounded nails. She may have asked me if that was okay but I can't be sure. I couldn't quite figure out when she was talking to me in English and when she was talking to her friend in Vietnamese. But, hey, I'm up for a change. She squared off my nails, painted them, and whisked me away to get my eye brows waxed. And here was another brochure warning that went unheeded:

She set me down, slathered the hot wax thickly on my eye "browns" and started tearing. She tweezed a bit and sent me on my way, glowing red but less hairy.

It wasn't until I got to the car and actually looked at my nails that I noticed all of the nails on my left hand are at a slant. A very noticeable slant. I'm talking a good 45 degree angle. How did I not notice that? And my eye brows, or rather browns, were patchy and require a bit of homework to make them right, or at least right enough to go out in public. My finger throbbed on my unevenly manicured finger and Ben asked me and my mom if we were hot or sunburned because we looked red.

It was a gong show from start to finish but it was well worth it in the laughs Mom and I shared, especially after we compared war stories.  While we may look elsewhere next time we need a mani-pedi, this place was certainly memorable! 

Blast from the Past

There are few things that make you feel quite as old as being reminded how many years it has been since you graduated from high school. And this year, that number is a whopping 2-0! It is nuts to think it has been two decades since I left Scarlett, full of dreams for the future and excitement for the unknown possibilities that lay ahead.

A reunion of sorts was planned for this past weekend -- an evening at Schanks started on Facebook and spread to alumni by word of mouth. I had a great experience in high school and thought it would be fun to see some faces from my past and catch up with old friends. It was funny to see how little things have changed in 20 years!

I met up with some girlfriends at Misty's house first, where they had some pre-reunion drinks and we chatted. Then, like in the 90s, we loaded into the car and I drove everyone to the bar. Granted, now it's a minivan with remote door openers, but the spirit is the same.

When we got to the bar, there were people I haven't seen since graduation and others that I have seen off and on over the years and still others I see regularly and are among my best friends. Everyone looked pretty much the same as they did in high school. Some had a little bit less hair, a few wrinkles, a couple of extra pounds, but all-in-all we all looked like we did in school. And the personalities are the same -- the social butterflies of the past are still flitting, the party animals remain the life of the party, and the quieter ones stay in their comfort zones with the people they know best.

We all chatted about old times, our new lives, and shared a lot of laughs. We found out about friends-of-friends who couldn't make it, and I know I missed a few of my best friends from high school who weren't able to be there. But it was so great to reconnect with the people who were a big part of my teen life and shaped who I am today. Of course, staying out until 2 am was a lot easier as a kid (thank God I still don't drink or it would have been really ugly Sunday, right Shawna?!) but it was well worth it! I just hope it isn't another 20 years before I see a lot of these faces again.

Inspired

There is so much tragedy in the world and all too often we feel unable to make a difference so we don't try. I feel helpless and ineffectual in times of crisis so I end up doing nothing at all. Sure, Carmen and I volunteer off and on at Inn from The Cold, and we adopt a family at Christmas with a group of friends, but when it comes to large scale catastrophes, I find it paralyzing.

Last September I met a mom named Tania who doesn't let anything stand in her way. Our sons play on the same hockey team and over a season of 6 am practices and weekend tournaments, we have gotten to know each other. She's the kind of person I admire: she tells it like it is, does what she believes is right no matter what anyone else might think or say, and she's ultra-involved in her community. Her kids are funny and polite -- and that doesn't happen by accident! Tania has an amazing energy and personality, and you can't help but be drawn into her crazy and wonderful life.

She is always talking about various charities she's involved in and the importance of giving back, even in small ways, especially since she feels so fortunate for her blessings. When something terrible happens, she thinks of what she can do to help while others sit wringing their hands tsk-tsking about what a horrible thing it is.

Tania jumped into action this week after watching news about the Slave Lake fires. She asked people to donate toiletries and such to help make these victims' lives a bit more normal in an unimaginably hard time, and she has arranged to have it delivered where it is needed. It makes me realize that while we might not be able to make enormous change, we can make the little ones that will make a difference.

Ben and I went to the store and picked up some things to add to her boxes, and I explained to him about why we were doing it. I told him that these people had nothing and with these little packages and treats, we could help them with the basics and let them know that they're not alone.

I'm so thankful to Tania for setting such a good example for my kids and for me too. She's a true inspiration.