Real Talk

 

I woke up to snow falling at a steady pace just on the other side of my living room’s window. It wasn’t like yesterday afternoon where the snowflakes had been wet and the size of my dogs head (that is a pretty accurate comparison by the way) no this morning it was just regular snow, you know, the kind you expect to find in mid-January while you’re freezing and only dreaming of warmer days.

Blankets of the white stuff cover everything this morning. “It will be gone by noon” is what the various people who walk into the shop today will say. Although annoyance will be nipping at the back of their throat just as a small dog nips at the ankles of a human who they want the attention of.

The snow, really, is neither here nor there. Well, actually, from my understanding it is here AND there and just about everywhere. A teeny tiny part of my brain keeps wondering if this is it. Is this the snowpocolypse? Is this how it ends? Snow flurries and cold. It’s like a cruel fucking joke man.

Oh worry not my friends I only tease. I’m sure it will be gone by noon just like my imaginary customers say. I am reading The Stand by Stephen King, so you know, I’ve got a lot of grim and apocalyptic thoughts going on in the ole nog lately.

I keep gazing outside though to find the snow and what I am assuming to be cold waiting for me. For the last two weeks I’ve been walking to work. 4 km there 4 km home. It’s no great achievement, it’s not like, body building or marathon running but it’s something and I’ve been feeling pretty good about it I suppose. I’d like to walk to work today but for previously stated reasons (the impending snowpocolypse if you didn’t quite catch my drift ~boom~) I keep shying away from the idea. Imaginings of an imminent death or serious injury continue to sully the dark places in my brain.

You see there is always the possibility of somehow getting held up in some crazy and outlandish situation that I cannot even fathom right now and freezing to death…You can freeze to death in minus five, right? Well, scratch that, what about the constant worry of pneumonia? It is dreadfully wet out there and a 4km walk in the stuff would only result in the horrendous throes of sickness by the end. Obviously. And we can’t rule out the crazy lunatics that will undoubtedly surface at the beginning of any End of Days. I’m sure that includes the snowpocolypse too.

Ugh, when did I become such a big baby you guys? When did I start worrying endlessly about slipping on ice and breaking limbs? It wasn’t THAT long ago when I was carefree. It wasn’t that long ago when I would throw caution to the wind and do all of the sporadic and random things that now make me cringe. In present time caution is a dear friend who I hold close to my breast with an uncompromising grip.

As I continue to mull over a nice brisk walk to work this morning I imagine trudging my way up the concrete stairs of the walking bridge that connects the Northside of my city to the Southside. With my luck I’d ever so gracefully slip upon the one patch of black ice it holds beneath its snow covered dress and that would be all she wrote folks. Literally. I would tumble down a 20 foot drop all the while bashing my head against not only hard but FROZEN stone. There I would lay on the ground beside my maker, the walking bridge, for hours as falling snowflakes encased me in a catacomb of cold hell.  No one would come to my rescue or even see me because no one in their right mind would be out and about on a leisurely walk in the damn SNOWPOCOLYPSE! And thus it would be sometime after noon when a passerby—safely ambulatory now that the snow had melted—would find me groaning and moaning by the concrete clad staircase in which I had plummeted from hours before. No, today I think I will drive.

Stay safe out there folks, it’s a brave new world now.

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A Journey with kids

The sun is finally shining, the birds are chirping their spring time melody and everyone is itching to get outside to enjoy the wonderful weather. Especially the little ones in our lives.

The energy in the Brown household buzzes with anticipation as we prepare ourselves for the first bike ride of the year. I have invited my good friend Janelle and her 9 month old daughter, as well as my sister in law Ashley and her little man who is a ripe 4 months old to join us on our outing.

As Lars and Sophie suit up in their helmets and rubber boots the fleeting thought of whether or not I should put wet pants on them crosses my mind. Nah, I think, they’ll be on their bikes, how wet could they possibly get?

We are out of the house fast and with little to no hitches, which makes me assume it is a sign of good things to come on our journey. But, we all know what happens when one assumes such things.

Our convoy is one of grandeur as my three and five year olds front the procession in their low to the ground plastic tricycles, to which I follow behind and Ashley and Janelle head up the rear with their matching strollers. We look good.

We start out on a wide path which proves to be easy riding.

Our destination is a small restaurant located in the downtown core Sylvan Lake. Which means we will have to traverse through side streets and over the dreaded crosswalk. But, I think, we are mothers we will prevail.

So there we are having a glorious time under the beaming sun when I realize how far ahead of our group Lars is. He is approaching a side street intersection. He doesn’t seem to be slowing down to stop as I have taught him to do over and over and over again.

“Lars.” I yip at the child who is now pile driving strait towards a crossing of doom. He does not hear me over the one inch thick padding that covers his ears from the helmet he wears.

“RUN!” Janelle screams at me which brings me out of my petrified stupor. So I do run, I run hard all the while screaming at the top of my lungs, “STOP LARS, STOP!!!” My strident bellowing resembles that of a banshee, I am waving my arms in the air which is useless as he faces the opposite way. He is now on the road. And he definitely did not look both ways before entering onto it. The sound of hard plastic wheels on pebbled road thunders down the street.

Finally a woman walking out from a nearby store must hear my screams of agony as she merely walks out in front of the boy and stops the bike herself. She points towards me- the crazy woman that is still howling from a few yards behind. She gives me this look that silently shrieks, ‘worst mother in the world! Put on a leash on that kid for God sakes!’ I give a wave of thanks and she carries on her way.

After a great deal of chastising and some ground rules laid down we continue on. This time Lars is only allowed to go ahead to the predetermined landmarks I set out for him.

We make it to the burger house without much of a hassle, aside from my good friends making fun of the show I put on for them moments before. We attract a good amount of attention from the passerby’s of our picnic bench as all of our children are ridiculously adorable. And I think it is safe to say we all revel in the attention of our pride and joys.

The jaunt home is just as eventful as the journey there as my two darling children decide that riding through the foot deep puddles at light speed will be a glorious idea. By the time we finally get home, they are both soaked clean to the bone with dirty winter run off puddle water. They bask in their achievement.

As we unpack I look towards the two babes that sleep peacefully in their strollers, not causing their Mama’s one ounce of issue during the trip. I then glance towards mine who are now wrestling in the front yard soaking wet with mud caked faces.

And I realize I couldn’t have had a more enjoyable time. Because as they say, ‘it’s not the destination, it’s the journey that counts’ And with a three and five year old, one is always in for a wild ride.  

In regards to Spring Seeding….

I may have ‘jumped the gun’ so to speak!

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A Fresh Start

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I have been having a hard time lately thinking of blog posts, as our weather in the fine province of Alberta is finally shaping up! OH how lovely it is, to walk outside and be hit with the rays of hot sun that I’m sure most of us have been craving since the mid winter season.
The kids and I have been spending most our time outside, I working in my gardens…Them, digging up the work I had just finished. I am attempting to teach them about Flora and Fauna this summer, as we spend so much time out at my parents farm and it provides to be a great landscape for education in this respective area.
Yesterday as I was out doing some weeding, and moving of certain perennials that I wanted to relocate, I began to notice…Like really notice the new growth that was starting to pop out of the rich black soil I worked upon.
Thick shoots of green and pink rhubarb jutted out in a completely random fashion, yet somehow looking totally uniform in their own way. Bright lime green Day Lilies, in their beginning stage stretched to find the warmth of the sun while the immature buds of a lilac bush greeted their arrival.
All of this beautiful new growth got me thinking about my babies and their development. How far they have come in the long winter spell.
Lars, and the ideas he has the ability to come up with, his mind is constantly spinning with concepts I had no idea he could even grasp. He told me the other day, as he practiced scrolling out his name with chalk on our cement pad, that it may not look perfect now but he just needs to practice and one day it will be. A simple idea at first grasp, but when I think back to last September when he began writing his name, and how frustrated he would get over it, it made me realize how much patience and persistence he has gained over these last few months.
Today we will be getting Sophie her first bike, and oh how excited she is for this milestone. As I type away, her and Lars wait uncomplainingly for Jamie to get out of the shower so we can begin the hunt for Sophie’s perfect tricycle.
It is a well known fact that with Springtime, begins new life and novel beginnings. I have always been in my prime at this time of year, but have never really took much thought to it. Finally I have been given the allowance to understand the magnitude of this season.
When I look towards the large poplar trees that grow uninhibitedly behind our house, and see the faint green tinge of new buds coming to life, I am able to breathe a sigh of relief.
Although the winter months have their fair share of fun activities to engage in and fall is beautiful with its deep colors of red and orange, summer and its heat; I can’t help but revel in the wonderfulness of spring.
My worries, although not completely relieved, seem to fade away into a place where they do not guide my thoughts, I take more pleasure in my accomplishments and dwell less on the things that need to be done, because now I know that I have a fresh new start ahead of me.

 

 

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