Adjusting to different ways

Adjusting to different ways

Today I opened my eyes before the dog woke me up.  You may be asking yourself, when did I get a dog?  I didn’t, I am actually taking care of my family’s kids and their dog for a week.  I am here in the snowy north and they are basking in the sun in the tropics.  Am I jealous?  Nope.  I’m actually having fun with the change in the routine and the constant source of entertainment.  Besides I’m hoping they are going to come back and regale me with amazing stories and show off an awesome new tan.

Taking care of 3 young girls and a dog is a lot of work, but it is totally a labour of love.  I’ve had to adjust to certain things.  The first day, I think I spent more time wandering around looking for light switches than pretty much anything.  I will say that when a Bull dog barks beside your ear at 3 am you don’t need light switches, or feet you just seem to levitate.  I’m also fairly certain my heart was dubstepping in my chest.  The dog has taken a liking to me though (which was something I was worried about).  I’ve developed an ache in my back (more so than usual) and have figured out that my four legged friend has been sleeping pressed up against it.  I’m also fairly certain he’s the reason I wake up slimy in the morning. 

The other big change is the constant source of noise.  3 girls = tons of chatter, which is great. It kind of reminds me of my days in a call centre, but in a good way.  Some moments I almost think I need a conch shell.  But the girls are creative and I love it.  They are also an amazing team and I’m amazed that they aren’t nearly as lonely for their parents as I expected.  This may be due to this age of modern of communication.  There is facetime and skype the phone and texting.  I can’t imagine 100 years ago the loneliness and isolation that people must have felt. 

I’m off to be domestic, I hear the pitter pattering of little feet.  (It’s more like tap dancing actually LOL)

Today I’m awesome because I’m making French toast!

Pain is a great teacher ... sometimes

Pain is a great teacher ... sometimes

Ah Wednesday weapons class at 9:30 am. I always look forward to it, but also with tepid fear brewing in my belly. I suppose this is because every Wednesday I manage to hit myself with a weapon. Yup. I'm a klutz. I may or may not secretly refer to weapons day as “head conditioning day” or “Try to stay conscious day”. Even stating this fact is a self fulfilling prophesy. I expect to hit myself, therefore I will. Even when I don't expect to hit myself I manage. Like today. I managed to strike myself in the back of the head yet again with my Bo. When I joked that I should wear a helmet my Instructor just laughed and told me that, “No I want you to hit yourself with it, it's the only way you learn not to.”. I wish i would learn this lesson at some time soon. But I will say, I can hit myself pretty darn hard and NOT drop my weapon. Obviously my dislike for pain our weighs my dislike for push ups.

After working with the bo for a while, we switched it up and practiced our Sinawali with our Kali. (2 handed techniques with sticks). I was doing okay until we started doing self defense with one stick. I love self defense. I had bare hands and he had a stick. I was doing okay until I went to lock him into an arm bar and whilst dropping his arm into position I forgot that I had feet and to get out of the way and managed to bring the ponyo on the sweet spot between the base of my skull and my neck. I had him, he couldn't go any where and I managed to hit myself in the head with his weapon! I saw grey. The next thing I knew he was doing push ups. I thought it was odd that he was doing push ups for me hitting myself with his weapon, until it was explained to me that he was doing push ups from dropping his weapon earlier. (I had knocked his weapon out of his hand by mistake when he wasn't ready.) So we tried it again. This time I managed to strike myself flush on the back of the head. I guess my instructor got sick of me trying to knock myself out and stepped in and corrected me. Thank goodness, because I am not sure how long I would have hit myself with my opponents weapon until I figured it out myself.

Later on in the class we did some flow self defense. My partner could come at me with any strike and I would have to defend myself. I actually managed to impress myself. Suddenly I remembered that I had feet and threw a few really well placed kicks in my self defense

in combination while locking up his weapon. That in it's self is pretty amazing because of MS I really tend to shy away from my legs. Perhaps all I need to kick myself into gear is to whack myself a few times with a stick to the head. But the bonus to hitting myself in the head so many times is I'm fairly confident that I have a hard head. I'm awesome today because I have a hard head!

Saint Patrick's Day

Saint Patrick's Day

So yesterday was Saint Patrick's Day. It's a big family holiday in Ireland. Genetically I may not be Irish (I'm adopted), but as sure as you were born there is a piece of my heart that is Irish. My adopted Granny was from Ireland. She came from a little town called Dungarvin in between the county Cork and Waterford. Actually the 17 of March was her Birthday. She came over as a war bride from England where she was working in a munitions factory and fell in love with a young Sapper in the Army. They had known each other a week when he was called away to duty. They married after world war 2 and moved to Toronto.

Growing up with Irish family members means you have got to love the music. I don't know who gets more excited when a reel comes on, my Father or myself. I feel it in my chest, the deep base of the bodhran, it beats with my heart. The flute trilling the notes adding a the high notes to the medium range moans of the fiddle. Yes the fiddle. Because when you are playing a reel it's a fiddle not a violin! Here is a sample: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GjH-Kep2Ps

Some of the best childhood memories are dancing with my father and mother in the living room, arms straight at your sides so you wouldn't get caught dancing (which is a big difference to Scottish Highland dancing where your arms are up above your head).

The saddest part in all of this is that she suffered from Schizophrenia and I wasn't able to sit by her side and listen to her stories. I couldn't listen to her speak in Gaelic a language that is quickly dying out. Even though I didn't know her well, She did make a lasting impact on my life. And today I am awesome for being at least a wee bit O'Irish

Honestly what is with all the dishonesty?

Honestly what is with all the dishonesty?

When I was a little girl I was picked on a lot. You know the horror stories of the school nerd? Ya that was me in pretty much a nut shell. I thought to myself, when I grow up things will be a lot easier because adults are more rational and logical than kids. Yup extreme fail there. I'm starting to think I'm of rare breed. What you see is what you get with me. Sure I don't have everything on public display, but if you ask me I'm either going to tell you the truth, or tell you that it's none of your damn business. Lying has got to be the single most unattractive feature in the whole world and there is a lot of ugly people out there. If you don't like who you are then change yourself don't lie about who you are! Honesty is the best policy. Given that, if you don't want an honest answer don't ask me a question! I had a girlfriend once who asked me if those pants made her look fat I told her no. It was an honest answer. It wasn't the pants. Just saying. Had another girlfriend once who had hair on her upper lip (it was blonde) She asked me if it was noticeable. I said no. I had noticed it glistening in the sun light. I had commented about it, But at that exact moment of time it was not noticeable see truthful. She didn't ask for an expansion I didn't give it. Obviously I wasn't bothered by it or I wouldn't have been with her. Who am I to judge, I have poly cystic ovarian syndrome I shave my face every day. I personally don't like the look of myself with any facial hair, doesn't make me feel girly.

Given that there is a local election coming up I am cringing in apprehensiveness of the crap that is going to be spouted. I mean why can't they just level on some sort of an honest degree so I can accurately figure out where to waste my votes. If you don't vote you don't have a right to complain about politics.

Had another friend lie about her age. This is one of those time that perhaps you should just say it's none of your business and walk away. Personally I'm proud that I made it to 36 and actually a little dumbfounded too. How I managed to avoid killing myself on my tiny little scooter or my motorcycle is beyond me. Ever ridden a bucking broncho?  They don't do sixty kilometers an hour which was the speed at which my rear tire blew out.  I managed to live and didn't crap my pants which is always a good thing.  The throngs of teenagers who witnessed my act applauded and thought I did it on purpose.  The only thing I did on purpose was not die.  And still I miss the smell of my two stroker and the bugs in my teeth. Crazy no?

I don't look my age which is awesome, but even if I did why lie? In the end it doesn't change the fact that I'm 36. Saint Peter is not going to add on a couple of years just because you say you are 5 years younger than you are.

Lying reminds me of an old saying that my ex used to say. “Honest I'm a lair, promise I'm a thief”. 

Just doesn't make sense to me! And today I am awesome for that reason!

Stone Soup

Happiness is making soup

If you had told me 10 years ago that I would be where I am now, I would have looked at you like you grew a third head. It's not the whole adjustment of being a lesbian and true to yourself, or being a Mom that I would have really surprised me. Okay perhaps a little bit. But the true kicker is that I love doing house wife things and it makes me happy. BUT PAM you are a liberated woman and a feminist to boot, how can cooking and cleaning make you happy? It wasn't my choice to stop working, it was the combination of MS and Depression that landed me here. I've accepted my lot in life. But damn it making soup makes me happy. It's a weird thing I know. I'm happy my family could message me and express their desire for soup. My Non-Sexual life partner has demanded that he get the next choice and it is meatball soup. This makes me happy. The love and effort that I put into it (it's more love than effort actually) is truly appreciated. They eat my soup and know I love them, they call me up and request soup and I know they love me.

One of my favourite stories is Stone soup. The story goes like this:

Some travellers come to a village, carrying nothing more than an empty cooking pot. Upon their arrival, the villagers are unwilling to share any of their food stores with the hungry travellers. Then the travellers go to a stream and fill the pot with water, drop a large stone in it, and place it over a fire. One of the villagers becomes curious and asks what they are doing. The travellers answer that they are making "stone soup", which tastes wonderful, although it still needs a little bit of garnish to improve the flavour, which they are missing. The villager does not mind parting with a few carrots to help them out, so that gets added to the soup. Another villager walks by, enquiring about the pot, and the travellers again mention their stone soup which has not reached its full potential yet. The villager hands them a little bit of seasoning to help them out. More and more villagers walk by, each adding another ingredient. Finally, a delicious and nourishing pot of soup is enjoyed by all.

Life is like this and it's not just soup. If we all add something of ourselves to this life it can make life wonderful and delicious.

Don't you hate it when you open your mouth and your Mother falls out?

Don't you hate it when you open your mouth and your Mother falls out?

I swore it wouldn't happen to me. There was no way I was going to grow up and be like my Mom. Not that she is a terrible person, but it just wouldn't fit the profile of my terminal uniqueness. It happened though whether I liked it or not. At some point I've been disciplining my kid and my Mom has fallen out of my mouth. Now I'm not talking about the standard Momisms like “don't make that face or else it will stick like that” or “if you friends jumped off a bridge would you do the same?”. I am speaking about conversations that My Mother and I had when I was younger about the simple little things like brushing your hair or cleaning your room. At some point I have been speaking to my child and all of a sudden my mothers voice comes out of my mouth and I have to laugh. (I can't do it when my child is around because that makes you loose all sorts of power).

I think the reason that it happens is not because I am like my mother so much, but because my kid is so much like me. (albeit a more girly version of myself). I've walked into her classroom and spotted her desk off the hop because suddenly I'm in a time warp and I’ve become a kid and I'm staring at my own desk complete with the bunched up pieces of paper and assorted randomness. How can I give her trouble for it when I KNOW that I was the same way and it's not so much of a mess but organized chaos.

Today I had to laugh when my daughter asked if she could take my boots when she got older or I was no longer using them. They were a gift from an ex girlfriend and I take loving care of them, not because of the fondness for my ex, but because they are some kick ass damn boots. I have a few pair of boots, but those ones are my favourite and she KNOWS it. I thought it was pretty ballsy of her to even ask really. I like boots because at 5'3 anything that gives me and extra inch is okay in my books. My kid has now developed an over fondness of boots. Her Gramma took her out this march break and bought her yet another pair, because in my house you can't own enough boots. If my feet were small enough I'd probably borrow them too! I wonder when she will realize how much alike we are. One day she will walk in my boots, but I hope she won't make the mistakes I have made and she better not get them dirty :D I wonder how many times she will open her mouth and my words will come out.

All My ex's live in Texas

All my ex's live in Texas

So, I have deleted my Plenty of Fish account and OkCupid! Not because I have made a love connection, but because I grow tired of the online dating scene. My last date was great, but I have decided that it just wasn't a match. Such as life.

I also find it absolutely hysterical that a few of my ex's are rooting for me dating. I guess it says a lot about you when your ex's still think you are a pretty okay human being! It's not like they want to date me again, but they still care very much about me and my happiness.

My extended family is also a source of comfort. I hate to be the girl who has to run that gauntlet. I have a hard enough time trying to explain my Male non sexual life partner, but my extended family? I think they might ninja sneak into the poor girls house, tie her to a chair under bright lights and examine her to she if meets their expectations. They are very protective of their Pamaroo and I believe the next girl I date might have a tough time measuring up.

I like the idea of dating and being taken out on a date, but in actuality my extended family spoils me rotten. I get flowers from them, and they take me out to dinner or lunch frequently, we hang out, we cook for each other. In actual fact, the next poor girl I date may have to have a cape in order to gain any sort of points in that field. It's not the monetary spoilage that I appreciate the most, but the emotional spoilage that is the best. It's the little things like when they make sure I'm well caffeinated for the day, or the constant encouragement to be myself. It is very rare that you connect with people that truly love you for you, flaws included.

So instead of the lunch bag let down world of dating, I'm going to be spending more time writing and hanging out with my family. Surrounding yourself with loved ones is way better than the search for the perfect person any day of the week. I am grateful I can rest my head on my pillow at night knowing that I am well loved. And that is what makes me awesome today!

Sausage Power????

Sausage Power??

First Picture of my Brown Belt

   I thought I should give a Karate update since it's been a while for that. As I have stated before, not only do I have a passion for the art, but more importantly it doubles as my physiotherapy. It's been about a month since I've actively trained. (My dojo family was sick and then I was sick). Tuesday we did sausage power. Okay this sounds a whole lot more fun than it actually is. It's a really funny name for physical activity that is spawned from hell. Something that sounds so funny should NOT hurt so badly. Here is what it involves: Lay down on your back do 5 crunches (easy right) roll over on your stomach and do 5 push ups ( not so bad ) continue rolling and doing either sit ups or crunches until you reach the end of the dojo.... then roll back to start doing above mentioned excercises. I gave up counting the amount of push ups I did, I do know that the next day it was difficult to move my arms above my head with out major creekage.

Then I got to do weapons class the next day. I had a death grip on my weapon at all times (which is really not conducive to training as it's more of a flicking motion when striking, but by God I was NOT doing push ups again for dropping my weapon.) The mantra in my head was “I am a martial artist, I am a martial artist.” with a smattering of “why did I have to pick red oak for my weapons”. I even managed to avoid striking myself in the head with my bo which is always good.

Ready set...

Since I am now a brown belt, my new weapon is Sai. Looks kinda like an over grown salad fork. It's made out of metal and it's pretty heavy. Push ups aren't the only reason you don't want to drop these bad boys, if you want to keep your toes UN-shattered you better be able to handle your weapon. I mean considering I've struck myself (almost to the point of unconsciousness) with every weapon I have ever owned I'm doing okay, but I would hate to go to the ER with another Martial Art's injury. First thing to practice.... how to spin them around your head and strike. Wait. Hang on. Anything around my head is bad news, and considering the weight of the weapon and the crapiness in the neuro-motor skills of my left hand this is down right scary. Push ups were now a far away concern as I concentrated on spinning this shiny new weapon with out maiming myself permanently. I manged to ONLY hit the back of my head a few times and didn't produce blood or collapse on the dojo floor. (BTW that was my awesome thing for that day)

The Winning point

First Place

I should also say that my Daughter and I went to Kingston a couple of weeks ago and I placed in Kata and Weapons, but came in first in Sparring. I hate sparring. I guess I'm okay at it. Here is to trying things you hate and surprising yourself!

Lesbian Dating: The actual Date

Lesbian Dating: The actual date!

The last few days have been incredibly difficult on me. For someone who is as out going as I am I really shouldn't have this much anxiety regarding dating. Give me a room full of people any day of the week and I'm comfortable, put me up on a stage in front of hundreds and I'm at ease, put me in a room with a cute girl I am interested in and I turn into Elmer Fudd. I suppose it is the not knowing that is the crux of the matter, where uncertainty and desire converge to create the perfect mix of “fuddness” in me. A room full of people who cares what each one thinks or knows for that matter, a single beautiful lady there is a significant amount of caring. I suppose it shouldn't be a shock considering I turn into a screaming idiot when I see a spider. It's the little things that are the hurtles in life.

I've done the online dating before and had a an eclectic bunch of really bad dates. They ranged from how stoned can one person be and still function, to a date that instead of perfume, put her ankles behind her ears. There is someone out there for everyone and those girls weren't it for me. I questioned my sanity as I zipped up my boots and headed out the door on my date. I had never really thought of myself as normal and it takes all kinds to make the world go around. I was also under heavy threat from my Karate instructor that if I repeated the past mistakes I had made I'd be unable to train do to a body cast. I think he was joking, but considering he has the knowledge and my fondness of my limbs I decided I'd better listen to him.

We decided to meet in a tiny coffee shop in the centre of Oshawa. The establishment seemed clean, and served terrible coffee. I decided that I was not going to be nervous, or at least appear as nervous as I actually was. My family has been drilling the idea that I am awesome into my head for weeks now and sometimes I actually sit back and believe them. So with my families voices in my ear I bravely sat down at the table where my date was waiting.

The conversation was great and we left the coffee shop after several hours, so I could play tour guide of Oshawa. Don't laugh, I love Oshawa. I may not have been born here, but it is my home town. Much laughing ensued when I took her to a local dollar store and proved that Yup Dollarama sells prophylactics, pregnancy tests and ovulation kits. We decided to meet again later to go to the local LGBT establishment. There is much debate if that constitutes the second date or if it is still the first considering it occurred in the less than 24 hours. That date ended well as well.

So for all those people who were dying of curiosity ... It actually went very well and I didn't make a complete ass out of myself, which was why I was awesome on Monday. Hopefully our third date or second depending on which stance you take I am hoping to be as equally productive :D. Here's to doing things that scare you.

Christian Lesbian Problems

Christian Lesbian Problems

I thought I would do up a video for this one and try something new.  Enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mp_qk8CNC6k

You said what now? Lesbian dating not for the faint of heart!

You said what now?:(

Okay, I admit it. I look what most people would stereotypically say is butch. I have short hair. I mean I have very short hair. I don't have enough hair to grab a hold of. There are reasons for this. I used to have very long hair, but when I went to college for Human Services Counsellor and actively started working in the field I shaved off my hair. I didn't want to have anything someone could grab a hold of, nor did I want to have my hair dangling and intermingling with other peoples while I was at work. After that I got pregnant and ill with MS. The last thing I want to do is waste one of my spoons mucking around with my hair. I also save a pile of money a month by cutting my own hair. I'm a single Mom, I'm frugal. I study martial arts and although I know how to get out of a hair pull, it's a lot easier to train with out a mass of hair falling in my face. It also helps to keep me cool. The biggest reason I have shortly cropped hair is .... I like it.

If that were the only defining thing that makes me butch I wouldn't be. The fact that I can NOT find a pair of pants in the w omen’s section to fit me also adds to the stereotypical butchiness. I also have extremely broad shoulders and w omen’s shirts don't accommodate for this very well either. I also really like pin stripes. So I'm butch. Big deal. I stick out like a sore thumb and I look like a walking stereotype big deal. If you have a problem with it, then I suggest you deal with your own issues.

The reason I bring this up is because after doing a comparison on Okcupid! I received a few messages later on during the day. The first one I have a date to meet on Saturday and am uber enthused to meet. Where the hell we are going and what we are doing hasn't been negotiated yet, but there does seem to be potential. The second very long winded message I got, I am definitely NOT going to meet NOR respond to. In fact, I'm still twitching and had to send a copy of the message to a few very close friends with the warning, “you may wish to put down your coffee while reading this.” Yup it was that bad. I have a magnet in my back pocket, which almost makes me want to give up the quest of seeking a soul mate and become a monk (can girls do this???)

The message starts as follows: “You're so snuggably butch that I want to grow a uterus and have your baby, lol!” I had to read the first sentence 4 times (it was past 1am and my brain was in low gear. Okay If I have a uterus and you don't, how how would you get pregnant by me? How does one grow a uterus? I'm caught up on small things like logistics instead of being dumbfounded that this person has just offered to have children with me in the FIRST sentence without even meeting me. There is a significant lack of parts on my behalf to impregnate her. Nor do I want the parts besides the obvious envy of the convenience of standing and peeing. I am butch, I am not trans. Obviously she is Trans, but I find it highly insulting that she would refer to me as her hubby (as she later puts. Yup Wants to have a baby with me AND marry me. Be still my beating heart.) People may mistake me for a guy sometime when I'm in the woman’s washroom or change room. This I can understand. But why for the love of all things holy would I want to be “hubby”. There is nothing in my profile to remotely allude to this. I'm a GIRL with GIRL PARTS that I'm very fond of. My trans friends shake their head in dismay that this person is giving them a bad name. If it is your desire to be the perfect 1950's house wife as you so put, I'm glad you have aspirations, but I'm just not that fond of jello molds. Your offer of “ Just consider it a cow teat to milk some baby juice from; a turkey baster could do the rest” I think I'll pass on and in fact I'm tossing out my poor baster after I burn it.

My kingdom for a normal person!

Lesbian Dating 2

Lesbian Dating 2

So I thought I would blog about the Free dating sites available to women who love women. There are several of them for free, but also several “niche dating” sites that you can pay for. I'm going to try and take them two at a time, some of them take up a lot of time to fill out and I want to be thorough. I've copied and pasted my information to each of them for consistency where it allows and used the same pictures as it allows. (Some sites have size requirements). Today's comparison will be between “Plenty of Fish” and “Okcupid!”

Plenty of fish:

Basically a free dating site with some pay options. You are able to message users for free. Fill out a couple of boxes upload a couple of pictures and you are good to go. The meet me feature allows you to click on users photos and classify if you want to meet them or not based on their looks. Good for the person with not a lot of time on their hands. The live chat is dicey at best and at worst non existent. The refresh rate on the site is slow, so be prepared to wait by your in box and refresh frequently.

The site is chalk full of “couples wanting to add a third” which is okay if that is what you are looking for, but very annoying to those lesbians who are looking for something in a serious relationship. There also seems to be a plethora of women on there who “want to date but nothing serious” or for friends or Friends with benefits. Adding to that women who have not dated women before and want to try it out. All that being said, Plenty of fish does have the highest user base out there and the more users they have the more likely your are too meet someone. The majority of profiles on the site seem to shallow and under completed. If you want to know ask seems to be a theme on there. Having gone on a couple of dates with women I've met on there, I've had zero success. That being said there is no comparing meeting someone in real life as apposed to an online personality! My hope of finding my soul mate runs thin on this site, but here's to chance :D

Okcupid!

It's the same Free type site that has some pay options. This site you are able to message users for free and the search is called “matches” as apposed to users. I like this site as it is a little more in-depth than POF and has multiple questions you can fill out about yourself. The more questions you answer, the higher percentage that you can be matched up with the users. There does seem to be a lot of women in couples wanting a third and women wanting just to hook up. Perhaps there is just an abundance of women who want this. Okcupid! Has a few more boxes to fill out which allows you to go into greater detail about yourself. Some of them are a little silly like the “most private thing I'm willing to admit” box. Really? Isn't that point of privacy. If you admit it, doesn't it by default become public? Each person that is listed shows up as a friend or enemy or as a match. I just started on this site recently and haven't met anyone for coffee yet.... but I'm working on it.

Shoot me an email if you have a site in mind that you think I should try or blog about. :D I can't be the only Good looking, honest, single lesbian out there :D

Wow!

In the last 2 years my tiny little blog has had humble beginnings. From scraping by to a few page visits a month to hundreds in the month. I started this blog in hopes that people who shared similar life aspects would feel comfort that they were not alone, that they were not “terminally unique” Today I have been viewed over 1700 times and still growing. I want to thank each and every one who clicks on this blog inadvertently or no. Thank you for showing me you care :D and showing the other people that follow my blog that there are more people who aren't “terminally unique” out there :D.

Also, in keeping with my quest.. Today I am awesome because I have run out of Tupperware AND soup pots from making soup for friends.

And a brief update... I'm just about 200 pages into my novel and will be exploring editing soon!  Thanks to my friends for the support! 

The Family you choose is more important than the family you have been born into!

The Family you choose is more important than the family you have been born into!

I didn't realize until I was older that I had a different perspective on family than other people. I suppose the root of this might be because I am adopted. I always knew I was adopted, so it's not like I was blindsided with it. My parents bounced me on their knee and said things like I love you I am so happy we adopted you. I knew that I was adopted even before I knew what being adopted even meant. For the longest while I thought I was chosen from a veritable smorgasbord of babies and I was the cutest one! It was a slight blow to my ego to find out that picking babies up like a buffet was not the standard operating procedure of adoption. Regardless of how it happened, I was Chosen.

This week end I got to go to Toronto and share a hotel room with part of my family. This part of my family I wasn't born into, or adopted into, but none the less they are my family. We are family, because we choose to be. Not only do the adults choose to be family, but equally if not more importantly our children choose to be family. Love is an action word, it is an active choice and an active process. There is nothing on the face of this earth that is more precious than the love of a child. The love of a child should not be taken so lightly.

Our children got to laugh and play and the adults managed to squeeze in a few hours of grown up shenanigans which were only highlighted by the atrocious garlic breath and the terrible gas later on. (If you can't fart around your family, by God who can you fart around?) The late night chatting and laughs were off the scale, and the food was great! I even managed to sleep in too! These things were amazing, but two things stood out in my mind that meant the world to me.

The first one was watching our daughters walk hand in hand down the mall. My daughter reaches for my hand it's not an uncommon thing. But to see her at the age of 10 walking proudly hand in hand with her friend caused me to well up with tears. (I'm not what you might consider an easy crier and when my tears do come it's something deeply emotional). Too me, this was a deeply emotional sight. It made my heart burst in my chest to see two little girls love each other and express themselves this way. (They were also pretty cute when the shovelled the driveway when we got back to the city.)

The second one was my family member spending time getting close and treating me like a sister. I never grew up with a sister and can't identify how that might feel, but I think this might be pretty close. With most people I feel almost a tangible barrier, but her this doesn't exist. With this family member, the only thing wanted from me was for me to be me and that speaks volumes. She encouraged me to cut my hair the way I wanted it. (I had been letting it grow at the suggestion of a few other people). It felt good to shear off the hair, and symbolic of shearing off the expectation of others. For the first time in months I looked at myself and said to myself, “Yup that is me.” and not “yup that is the version of me that other people want.” I never realized how important it was for me to have closely cropped hair. If I don't conform to your stereotypical version of femininity that isn't my problem, but rather yours. The best thing about it was I knew how much joy she got from me expressing my individuality and uniqueness. (not that everyone isn't unique, but rather my own brand of uniqueness) The fact that it made her happy that I was happy only made me happier! She also said I had a uniquely shaped head in an attractive way. I was the strangest heartfelt compliment I had ever received.

The third moment was a simple cup of coffee. My family member knew I was a little tired after driving around during the day and a little frustrated with inconsiderate traffic who caused a delay in the drive. (It wasn't the delay that bothered me, but the inconsiderateness of the other driver). My family member disappeared for a while and I figured that he was busy taking in the luggage or putting it away or some other mundane adult duty. When he appeared at the door with a hot portable mug of coffee I nearly cried. It was one of the sweetest, simplest gestures anyone could have made. This cup of coffee said so many things to me. It said, “Hey I'm worried about you and want you to be safe for the 15 minute drive home”, It said, “I know you are sick with a cold still and I want you to be warm”, It said, “Hey I know one of your favourite things in the world is coffee, so I made you this one to enjoy because I know you love it!” It said, “Hey I want to take care of you too!” The biggest thing it said to me was, “I'm thinking about you! I have a wife and kids that I love, but I love you too.” It's is these little things that mean so much to me and why I love my family. These things that cost nothing but have so much value that I cherish. I also know that as I'm sitting here at home in my office with tears of joy streaming down my face and a warm mug of coffee in my hand that they aren't very far away and I am in their hearts too. Too love and to be loved for who you are is amazing. Yesterday I was awesome because I love my family for who they are, and today I am awesome because I am loved by my family who I am. And that folks is pretty awesome!