One Year

What does a year mean? According to Wikipedia, a year is is the orbital period of the Earth moving around the Sun. Over and above the sun and orbits and stuff, a year has a pivotal impact to the grand scheme of our lives. In one year, so much can happen and sometimes it seems like things have stayed the same but in reality, and according to Buddha if you happen to follow him, we change day by day. And 365 days of change equates to a heckofalot of change. I recently re-read emails that I sent over 5 years ago and felt like I was reading someone else's email. Weird how even a short spell of our lives can result in a different voice even.

My point to all this philosophizing...well, my point is this: I feel completely different after this last year. My life has changed twenty-thousand fold. I'm actually not in a super good mood lately and feel as though my life has taken a turn away from who I truly am. I mean, I could argue that who I truly am is not a constant. I am variable (according to that wise old Buddha fella). But it's a serious feeling not to be ignored. I've heard from other mom's that maternity leave and having a child does that to you but I never thought it would happen to me.

As I run errands lately, I see 20 somethings prancing around in their skinny jeans and boots, with the new legwarmers that I had no idea was a new thing. The beautiful hair and make-up. And I wonder, when did I become the sweats and runners, frizzy hair headband wearing mom? Well, last year to be exact.

This brings me to the point of my disconcern. I've spent a great deal of time this past year looking after the centre of my life. The centre of my life with the name Bella who is turning one in two days (go Bella! It's your birthday! Have a party!). Throughout this past year, I've gone from putting "Me" first to putting me in the backseat. And it's been a constant struggle, sort of a battle of "shotgun" with myself.

Having a child who is slightly amazing, or grossly amazing, has made me feel more with my heart. Has made me take pleasure in the little things in life and not get so wrapped up in "what to wear, what to eat, what to say". I'm just being. And unfortunately, that is not who I am. I am a "wear the right clothes, eat the right food, say the right thing" kind of person (or at least I think of myself that way). Unfortunately, this equates to "wear whatever (food stains? who cares!), eat whatever, say whatever" which in essence means "do not take care of yourself".

I've become a mom who dresses her daughter to the nines and then wears "whatever". And for the most part, it hasn't bothered me until lately. Because I've seen those moms, in the skinny jeans and boots...and leg warmers even! With the kids dressed to the nines. And I say to myself, if they can do it, so can I. It's just a matter of committing myself and making time for me.

This post was originally supposed to be about Bella but I've been in this horrible mood lately so had to let out a little of the dialogue in my head...blog therapy I guess. It feels good to let it out on the page before you.

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In other news, Bella is turning ONE tomorrow! It feels like just yesterday she was the size of a peanut, nestled in the crook of my arm. And now she's grown not only in size but in mind...she's a smart cookie who is already fighting for her independence from me. I can imagine how she'll be at 15.

Go away mom!

I've spent the last few days getting ready for her party...and now it's a cooking fiesta in our house, as we make a feast for her entourage. We can't wait to dress up in our halloween costumes and get down to the Monster Mash and Purple People Eater. Oh and I found Fresh Princes "Nightmare on My Street", which will be one of my favourites to shake this bootie to.

I've made a handful of "pet ghosts" for the bigger kids to carry around at the party. Should be fun times with all the cheesetastic decorations and truckloads of candy to hyper up the kidlets!

Stay tuned for an update on her birthday!

I think Ikea is mocking us

It just occurred to me that the armoir we recently bought at Ikea is called the Dombas.

The beauty of the name is that during assembly, we (meaning Victor) felt just like the name of the damn thing.

The assembly went something like this:

Victor: "I think I put this together wrong." *hammer hammer hammer*

Linda: "Did you read the instructions?"

Victor: "You mean these?" *see example below

Linda: "Oh...I see."

Victor: "Let me try pulling the nails out." *snap crackle and pop*

Victor: "Uh....do you mind the doors being on backwards?"

Linda: "Sounds good to me."

NB: If you decide to purchase and put this massive beast together, please don't be a Dombas and call Ikea before assembly to avoid a backwards armoir.

Show and Tell

Our computer screen is now fixed and I feel like a kid in a candy store. It's so nice to be able to use the internet without wanting to rip my hair out...and to look over photos and videos that I've taken in the last couple of months.

So let's go back in time, shall we?

September 9, 2010 (sidenote: Happy Birthday Griffin!)
One of Bella's first words...besides mama/dada/pepe/agua:

October 18,  2010

It took us 9 days after she started walking to capture a picture. I have videos but they are long and most of them feature me singing which I won't subject you to.

October 21, 2010

And here she is looking like a catalogue model...just near missing that chic hands-in-the-pockets look.

October 25, 2010

Here finally, is a picture of Bella waiting for the claw to come down so she can pet (or lightly smack as I call it) the cat.

And that's all folks...this uploading pictures business is way too time consuming.

All you need is trust...and a little bit of pixie dust... - Peter Pan

My grandma, Diana (Pixie) Mary Daly passed away peacefully today at 10pm. I know I should be an adult and accept that life has to end someday. I mean, she was 93 years old and has lived a full life, however, I just feel as though there was so much left unsaid, you know?

I keep replaying the last time we saw each other before she got sick. And I wish more than anything that I stayed with her for longer. That we could have had a long talk about the past, my memories of her and her thoughts on death.

If someone passes and you leave things unsaid (i.e. grandma, you're an amazing woman....you were like a mom to me when I went through tough times with my mom...your independent life has made such an impact/impression on my life...I wish I had your strength), then you feel deep regret. I mean, at her bedside, while she lay there looking so peaceful, I told her how much I loved her and that she will always be in my heart, and then cried buckets after getting the words out. But I didn't say the things that I should have said.

So all this preamble to say this: I will take the opportunity here to say the things left unsaid.

Dear Grandma,

I know you hate all the mushy stuff and would probably get annoyed at what I'm about to say, but I feel like it needs to be said in remembrance of you. Who you are...and who you were.

My earliest memory of you is at Christmas...probably 1983. I was five years old and playing Hungry Hippos with my brother on the floor. You sat on our light brown patent leather couch knitting and telling my brother to 'play fairly' as he continued to smash my hippo with his fist. I remember getting mad and going to sit in your lap as you knit something...probably for me. Your perfume was floral, and you always reminded me of royalty for some reason. You were regal in a way, although completely unintentionally.

As I grew older, and visited your place many times, I remember eating right from your garden. We would walk through the garden chatting and you would reach out and snap off something green and get me to try it. As a child it was snow peas, as a 20-something year old, it was kale. Both crunchy, one sweet, the other one earthy. My love of vegetables stems from those memories.

I remember you kept Count Chocula cereal in a cupboard for my brother who loved the sugary sweet stuff at the break of dawn. I always asked for toast, and to this day, the smell of toast reminds me of sitting in your eat-in kitchen with homemade bread, jam and butter not margarine. The newspaper was always spread out on the table waiting to be read.

I remember you always tried to find a friend for me to play with when I went to stay with you as you thought I would get bored 'hanging out with the old folks'. Awkwardly, I would play with someones granddaughter who's grandma had the very same idea as you.

I remember coming to see you in 2003-ish. I drove up in my Jetta (oh how I loved that Jetta...it was my first away trip with it) and spent a couple nights with you and Aunt Madeleine who was also up for a visit. Madeleine and I spent the days down at the beach tucked away in these massive smooth rocks, both immersed in books while lazily talking about boys and life. At night, we ate dinner and all had enough wine to make our faces rosey. You tried to convert us into Charlie Rose fans...but Grandma, I never really got that show but maybe I just didn't give it enough of a chance.

I remember the day that you took me around town introducing me to everyone as your 'grandaughter who is going to UBC studying politics'. Just politics thank you very much.

But the memory I will never forget is the last 'well' visit. I remember you, with sotto-voce as you always spoke due to that damn Parkinsons, announcing to everyone in the cafeteria that Bella was your 'great granddaughter'. No one could hear you so I repeated it for everyone feeling a bit shy. But you were so proud. Beaming in fact. I'm so glad that Bella got to meet you and vice versa. If only it were for a bit longer but there's a point where you need to let go.

Among many other things, you know what I wish we would have talked about that last visit? I wish you could have told me why everyone called you Pixie. Was it because you were mischievous as a child? A playful spirit? As you grew older, I believe your playfulness became wit, adventure and fierce independence. Much like a pixie.

And one last word before I go. For all those years and birthdays, and Christmases and Easters when I didn't send a thank you card. Thank you with the depth of my heart. You never forgot to send a card with little messages of what you were up to, alongside a gift. You always planned it well so that they arrived well before the actual celebration day...so my brother and I would itch in anticipation. And sorry grandma for not being as diligent with gift-giving and card writing. That is not my forte. I get so wrapped up in the day-to-day that I tend to forget the written thank you's. But please know that I am thankful for having you in my life. And hopefully as life goes on, you will be up there somewhere listening to my pleas, as well as gratitudes for what life holds for me and my family in the future.

It's been a time...

Hi there - it's been a while since I last updated you on happenings at casa loca. Well, where should I start. Our laptop screen cracked a few weeks ago so I haven't had any urge to post or surf for that matter as our emergency laptop has a five inch screen (no joke) which requires lots of scrolling...and we're having issues with scrolling especially since we can't use a mouse with a curious and demanding 11 month old and a 12 week old kitten (who simultaneously like to get tangled up in the wires).

I also now have allergy-induced asthma due to the kitten so we've bought a massive air purifier and I've taken to loads of allergy medication so I can keep the nasty symptoms at bay. Crazy? Totally. But Lola has grown on me...and she and Bella have become best of friends (what's a few scratches between friends?). Oh and also, the cat keeps the mice away which was one of the reasons we got her as our building (unbeknownst to us when we got the place) has mice that are resilient to traps (the humane kind!).

Oh and also, my grandma has been ill and I've taken the ferry over to the Sunshine Coast twice in the past few days (and will most likely go back again tomorrow) to see her. The outlook is not good and unfortunately she has no capacity to speak or even keep her eyes open. Yet I know she can hear me because when I tell her stories, she responds in subtle ways. And at one point, Bella kept waving to her and saying "HI" over and over and I swear I heard my grandma say Hi through the respirator.

And now on a positive note, Bella has started walking! She took her first steps on October 9th (Thanksgiving weekend) and is now a walking machine. At her grandparents place, she just up and decided to walk from a living room chair over to me, on the sofa. Then, as I tried to keep her busy with my keys at one point during the evening, she walked straight to the front door (I'm talking major steps here) and pretended to unlock the door with the keys. She's a freakin' genius child!  How do they connect objects to actions like that? Only a few months ago, she was a drooling, rolling mess! (and I mean that in the best possible way ofcourse).

And I'm dying to post pictures and videos and witness testimony of her walking (like I'm sure all proud blogger parents do) however, this pseudo computer that I'm using doesn't allow me to. So it'll have to wait until our lovely cracked laptop is fixed and functioning...oh and I'll definitely post pictures of Bella and Lola getting into some monkey business. They're always up to something those two!