Call me Maybe...No Really That IS My Name!

The Simple Truth - Chris De Burgh

The simple truth is that when a child is born, life is forever changed. And the love you thought was over the moon for your partner goes gallactic when your eyes first behold your child. As a mother as soon as you here those words "It's positive" you go maternal and a little hormonal - sometimes a lot haha! It is different for daddy dearest because he doesn't have the constant daily reminder. For mom, every look in the mirror every belt that is loosened, every extra trip to the bathroom or strange food craving reminds you that you are not alone and never will be again. I know it doesn't apply to most men, we are just built differently and respond differently. It's not bad, it's just the way it is. I sometimes feel bad for the male species that they miss out on the physical pregnancy part of childbirth. It's wonderful. But then you have people who want to but are unable to have children and my heart aches. It is incedible that some people are so selfless that they can bear a child and then allow it to have a most spectacular chance at love with another family. And then there are people like the sperm donor of my children (I spent 20 years biting my tongue and not badmouthing him - there is nothing left to hide anymore). I will never understand how a person can father a child and grow to love them for 8 years and then just walk away and out of their lives. I guess in some way it is like giving your child up for adoption - except that in that case you are doing it out of love for your child. To give him/her a better life, not to get them out of your life. Either way, that is enough energy wasted on the likes of him. 

It seems that it is not only love that causes the miracle of life to take hold of that uterian wall and prosper. Sometimes it is boredom, poor television programming, the written word (wait til your finished this...it gets good :) or separation. A significant baby boom came about after a prolonged period of male absence due to World War II. Those boomers (I'm one on the tail end) include anyone born from 1946-1964). There have been many other instances of mini baby booms. Some make sense, some not so much. There was an echo baby boom when the children of the WWII boomers began to procreate. Nine months after a November 1965 New York City black out birth rates in the city spiked. It's dark, you might as well do something :) Logically speaking, baby booms have been caused by bans on abortion and contraception leading to more live births. In the beginning of 2012, the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy of erotic story-telling was released in Canada. At least one city experienced a 30 per cent spike in birth rates 10 months later (people  needed time to read and process the explicit sex scenarios). Certainly polls at the time suggested that baby or not there was increased bedroom activity much to the pleasure of the male populus who began to encourage their female companians to read. ;)

But at some point the mating process has been successful and the zygote hangs on for the insanely rapid changes to come. Going back to high school biology, I remember thinking that the cells dividing during the creation process was an awful lot like the struggle between the sexes. From the very beginning, the first cell division to our last dying breath, x and y, yin and yang  complete opposites and contrary to each other. Yet somehow connected and unable to be independent of one another. To function properly the middle ground must prevail and egos put in check. Give and take. But understand that I am not in anyway suggesting that this theory negates the validity of homosexual relationships. It's something I don't understand too well, not having lived it. Akin to asking me what life is like as a male? Ain't been there, ain't done that. But I digress.

Onto the joy that your child can bring to your life. It euphoric, the highest high and it never seems to end. It changes with the passing of time without a doubt. They depend solely on you, they screech and challenge everything you say, they love to be with you (so you can buy them stuff), they are embarassed of you, they hate/ignore you, they love your bank account, you cramp their style and then they move out. That's birth to age 20 in a nutshell! 

This morning, I heard on the radio that the listening audience should be prepared to be on Royal baby watch. Prince William and Kate are expecting an hier to be born and day now. Technically the due date is this weekend and typically the first can be later rather than early but still, more than just Granny Queenie Elizabeth is waiting with bated breath. It's a grand time and there is nothing like new life to renew hope and spirits of all...just like spring.

When You Call My Name - Paul Brandt

But here is the thing and the point of this musing. Names. The gambling world  is taking bets on the sex and side bets on the name of this royal babe. The only name that is probably ruled out is Elizabeth being as there has already been two Queen Elizabeths in England in the last century. Diana will probably be recognized in one of the 4 or more official names as a nod to Prince Williams late mom, Princess Diana. The suggested names are decidedly boring - for a boy: Philip, Henry, James, John, Michael - for a girl: Alexandra, Victoria, Anne, Mary, Charlotte. But it would be a little ridiculous to have a Queen Peaches running the Commonwealth. 

And this is the exact conversation that I had with my kids when we discussed how I had come to chosing their names. For the record she is Lydia (a combinational nod to my mom Livia and sister Linda), Monica (after her paternal grandmother). He is Christopher (after the singer Chris DeBurgh) and James  (after my brothers best friend and by osmosis I think of one of the lead singers of Blue Rodeo). 

And the next trend is calling a baby "What"

Bestowing a name on someone is not a process which should be taken lightly. There are so many things to take into consideration. Personal preferences, potential nicknames, initials, past boy/girl frends, family wishes and people you offend by leaving them out. Their entire future is at stake. 

Then there is the initial issue. There are times when you are required to initial official documents, it could be embarrassing to scribble "BS" all over the place. or "BJ" or "FU" HA!

I know people who are very anal when it comes to nicknames. I tried to chose name that if they were shortened, I could live with them. Ironically I am known by one of two nicknames - but only because I can't stand my full name...Elizabeth...to formal and stuffy! Also, I personal don't like boys names that can be shortened in anything ending in a "y". Jimmy, Johnny, Danny - all rejected even though I really loved the name Daniel.

Our past experiences with people also influence our naming choices. I don't care if your fathers name was Richard, that boy broke my heart and that's what I think of. This category would include controversial historical figures as well, there aren't a lot of Adolf's, or Judas' running around. 

Working with children, there were certain names I stayed away from because if there was a "problem" child at school I could almost guarantee they were either a Michael or Brandon, Sarah or Jessica. But that is like the chicken and egg scenario. Which came first, the child's unique personality that drew you to him or from past experience did you brand this child. One teacher was brave enough to tell me that when she looked at her class list and saw a Michael she prepared for battle. Knowing that and acknowleging it, she could restrain her judgemental behaviour. How many of us haven't come to the realization that we judge people based on their names.  I was very young and very naive when I was told about my friends child that she had named Jackson - I automatically assumed it was a family name and the father was african-american. Right or wrong, that was my experience that I drew on. 

Then there is the future. My arguement has always been that in some way, the name makes the person. Cookie may be an absolutely wonderful person with the intelligence of Einstien but I don't think she will ever be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company - unless it's Nabisco lol! It's just history suggests that she is a bit flaky and more likely to be a prostitute. Would Donald Trump be as successful as he was if he was Donny?

The popularity contest. There is some evidence that the level of popularity in high school at least in some part contributed to the level of income after graduation. Is that due to the popularity or the confidence of that adoration that enabled the persistence to not settle for any less than their percieved value? Chicken and the egg again :) Regardless, these popular people are more likely than not saddled with such names as Jennifer or Brittany. I dare you not to picture cheerleaders or girls bouncing down the hallowed halls with an entourage of hangers-on. Same goes for John and Brad - the jocks. 

Not convinced? What comes to mind when you think of Bertha, Hilda, Ernest and Cornelius walking those same halls? My son vehemently disagreed with me when we had a similar conversation when he was about 10 years old. He believed that who he was and his personality would be the same whether he was Chris or Edgar. Call him stubborn, there was no convincing him otherwise. Ahhh but with the passage of time and patience on my side I won! Leap forward 6 or 7 years and during a conversation about friends and relationships comes this startling statement from the mouth of the boy. "If I had a son I would call him Lance." Tongue-in-cheek, smirk barely concealed, "Why?" "Because how can you not be popular in high school with a name like Lance. He sounds like a jock and football player". How indeed :)

Celebrity insanity craze. I swear it is like a spitting contest with the winner deserving a permanent residency in the rubber hotel. Who can be the wildest and craziest and most willing to capture the headlines? I didn't think that anyone could ever top Frank Zappa's Moon Unit and Dweezil offspring until Frank Zappa himself did it with Diva Thin Muffin. No kidding! But even that is mild compared to Moxie Crimefighter (that's a girl), Pirate and Pilot Inspektor. People, those are jobs not names. I just hope Pilot doesn't get a job in the airline industry because that will just be silly. He'd have a better chance of normalcy being called Boob Inspektor. At least more fun than inspecting pilots. Getting off the professions and into wildlife you have Speck Wildhorse. How about Banjo, Denim, Camera, Seven, Free, Apple and Audio Science? Not a word search list but the name of some very unfortunate children.  

Double Blue, because it is just too funny. Soon to become the mascot of the Toronto Argonauts football team, The Edge's offspring Blue Angel will unite with Beyonce's Blue Ivy and they won't clash. Hey, did you hear that Beyonce has trademarked the name Blue Ivy in case you get any ideas. lol! 

Speaking of Angels, there is one in every family. Not angels but outside the box thinkers. A relative had four children and called each one of them some variation on the name Angel with a suffix. This is when my annoyance with names was born as I distinctly remember my brother telling him that he wasn't his name sake but a devil instead. 

But celebrities got nothing on the everyday wacko's out there. Here listed are just a few of the most bizarre I found:

- Cougar, Fox, Bear

- Tank, Jeep, BMW

- Notorious

- Tonto

- Spanky

- Rib Eye

- Octopussy

- Tu Morrow, Evening, Future, Destiny

- Tequila, Abeer, Chardonnay

- Jennyb (silent b)

- Madison, Brooklyn, Bronx, Chicago, Syria, Egypt, Graceland

- Thinn, Yoga

- Burger, Pickles

- Espn

I can only assure you of one thing - we aren't talking about future world leaders here - unless we make a trip to the name changing court first. Some of these people have done exactly that. I can understand with the ballooning population the rooster of names is wearing thin, but there has to be a line of decency drawn here. Imagination is best left to be displayed on a canvas or with pen and ink (old school but you get the point). Abeer will make a great bartender or comedian if he makes it through public schools unbroken. Nevaeh is a name that always rubbed me the wrong way in it's stupidity and then I came across Rehtaeh. So I thought why not Kgehknifberb. (K's and B's are silent). And you ask me how to spell Liz. Really.

Laugh if you will at the comic, but folks this is actually a sad commentary on society. Crossing the line of paying homage to relative or friend or even a fictitious character on a TV show, last year some no-life named their child Like - to make sure everyone knows they like Facebook more than their child. Worse still is poor baby Hashtag. Oh the humanity! It seems that little Hastag has skipped the perimeters of age restrictions on Facebook (and presumably Twitter) to have her...yes her...own facebook page where people enjoy sharing their opinion on the cruelty of her parents. Even going so far as to threatening to call child welfare. That may be going a bit too far but when Hashtag gets a little older and goes all Lizzie Borden on her parents at least we won't all be sitting back and scratching our heads in wonderment. 

Personally I am waiting for the media reports that someone has gone ahead and taken the suggestion of the wise and comedic Barney Stinson and actually saddled a child with the middle name "Waitforit". It's stupid but funny. But How I Met Your Mother is a fictitious TV show...not real and not a model for life.

It's interesting how people fit their names. When you look at name meanings sometimes it all makes sense. But like some of the example above sometimes  people are named wrong. I think I was, people have always told me "I look like a Debbie." Personally I like Monknee :)  

This was kind of fun. Like the zodiac analysis for my birth month this is a pretty decent character anaylsis, except maybe the keeping promises - I think I am pretty good at keeping my word.

Kabalarian Philosophy Your First Name of: Liz

Below is a brief analysis of the first name only.

• Your name of Liz creates a passive, friendly, easy-going nature, but your desire for sociability and the pleasant things in life makes you too easily influenced through your associations.
  
• You are too generous and if appealed to will give all you have because you find it difficult to say "no" and mean it.
  
• You do not like to create tension or friction and will try various means to avoid such situations.
  
• You are very idealistic.
  
• You have imagination and many ideas but lack the ambition and drive necessary to accomplish your undertakings.
  
• Many times you dream about the things you desire in life, but when it comes down to putting forth the necessary effort and accomplishing your goals, you do not have the strength and initiative.
  
• This name does not allow you the system and order your life requires to run in a smooth, efficient way, and if possible you will avoid having to make decisions because you feel much more secure when you can lean on others.
  
• Many times you make promises you do not keep, although your intentions are always good.
  
• Any weakness in your health would cause you to suffer through either kidney trouble, female problems, or varicose veins.
  
• Due to a sensitivity in your nervous system, you could experience nervous disorders.
• http://www.kabalarians.com/cfm/DisplayNameAnalysis.cfm

Name Game by Shirly Ellis feat. the Banana Splits

 Anyone old enough (like me) to remember the Banana Splits? 

Look for an update upon news of the royal birth and for more entertaining name lists check out the link below. Like youtube...one link leads to another and another until hours have passed and your cheeks are sore from all the guffaws and chortles and snickers. Now there are three GREAT names. My next kid is Snickers :)

Credit where credit is due
http://www.kabalarians.com/cfm/DisplayNameAnalysis.cfm

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/31/bad-baby-names_n_3366655.html

I Must Stay and You Must Go

Leave It Alone - Moist

Fate has the ability to take something away from you and leave you absolutely powerless to do anything about it. Fate can be cruel, fate can be beautiful. Fate can put you in that spot at that perfect moment in time when you will meet and connect with your soul mate. Fate can also take your world and shake it up like an ant in a jar and leave you dizzy with fear and alone to pick up the pieces. You want to put the tattered shreds of your life back together again but it's unrecognizable. Fate and I are not exactly on speaking terms. Fate has scattered the parts of me all over the highway and left me alone to die. In many ways I made decisions on my life before fate had a chance to intervene, I stopped the hurt before it could catch me. Sometimes I was successful but I will never know if I ran before the sun could shine down on me. Admittedly I was a little gun shy.


A lifetime ago - 28 years - my brother Ron passed away in a hospital in Thunder Bay Ontario. He was 21 years old and had been battling Hodgkins Lymphoma since he was 9 years old. With Ron's passing, I was officially the last surviving member of my family of 6 and I was 22 years old. It was not a title I wanted hoisted onto my shoulders. Fate had other plans. In a very bizarre way, however, Ron's death was easier to deal with because I knew it was coming and I had plenty of prior experience dealing with having the heart and soul being ripped from me. But on the other hand it was and is a lot harder because I had the tiniest glimpse of the kind of man that he could have become. I had time to get used to him being a part of my life. I had the opportunity to get to know him as more than just an annoying kid brother. 

Ron is a person who I have elevated to stand proud atop a pedestal while I gaze in awe from below. He didn't make it well known and downplayed it when the subject came up, my brother was a true hero. By definition a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds - Ron was not a man but a child of 11 years, nor was he recognized for his courage. But he should have been! In the seconds following the horrific and deadly accident that befell the family on March 21st, Ron was able to find his way out of the burning wreckage that had been flipped onto it's rooftop. Ignoring danger to himself, he returned to the blazing hot metal shell to offer his help. Trying to comprehend what had happened and what to do, I felt a tugging on my sock and it was pulled off. The tugging continued until I was able to squirm my way out. In the darkness of the night fueled only by the brilliant orange flames, my brother showed me the way out and pulled me to safety. And he wasn't done, he was on his way back having gotten me a safe distance when emergency personnel arrived and stopped him. Even they recognized the danger in his heroism but it was quickly forgotten in the enormity of the tragedy that the light of day showed. 

I have no right to be called strong because compared to my brother I am but a wet piece of spaghetti

Again in the months before he died, Ron let go of the burden he carried on his shoulders and focused his attention on the well-being of me. Of course, hindsight having 20-20 vision, I realized that he knew his end was near. After more than 10 years of battling the cancer demon that would rear its ugly head with no warning and suck a little more life out of him, he was tired. I bore the scars of the tragedy our family had endured for the world to see and question - Ron, was like you - on the outside but hurting on the inside. No one knew how much it hurt to be a young boy sick and without his mother. No one knew that he had given up the fight to live - except his doctors. No one knew he had quit treatments that might have prolonged his life. No one knew the futility he felt trying to hold down a part-time job at McDonalds only to be let go because of his frequent absences for treatments. No one knew the hassles he had at school because he was away so much because he was sick. He carried so much weight upon his shoulders. He never told me how scared he was that he could never hold down a job because staying healthy required so much of his time. It was a different time then. In the 1970's and 1980's a child growing up with cancer was more of an anomaly, today you would be given every consideration to pursue treatments at your workplace or school. Not then, not for him. And although the guardian grandparents were much more supportive of him than I, they were a sorry substitute for the compassion and loving nature of our mother. With her, we may have both seen a brighter future. 


But it is what it is. Fate. And I can't change that but I can mourn my loss and wonder what it might have been to have a hero and friend like my brother in my life today. For no matter how much time passes, thoughts of Ron will always bring tears to my eyes and my heart aches like it was yesterday that I said Goodbye. The world was a richer place for having him in it and a lot emptier and sadder without his grace. I have memories that will never dim with thoughts of Ron - I wish you all had the same opportunity to know him.

Snows of New York - Chris De Burgh

One more note on the subject of my brother. In the last days of his life, he became very moved by the poem Footprints in the Sand. He found a lot of comfort in the words. I feel a similar tug at my heartstrings in the word penned and sung by Chris De Burgh.

"In my dreams we walked, you and I to the shore,

Leaving footprints by the sea,

And when there was just one set of prints in the sand, 

That was when you carried me;

You have always been such a good friend to me,

Though the thunder and the rain,

And when you're feeling lost in the snows of New York,

Lift your heart and think of me;"

Thank you to my brother, Ron who always walks by my side and shines a light to guide me when I feel lost...

I-rish I was Irish

Barrett's Privateers - Signal Hill

Nobody does this song with as much passion as Signal Hill, but this is the song that got the party rolling for me last night during the annual St. Paddy's Day festivities, not in Halifax or Dublin but a wee watering hole in Streetsville. The happiest day of the year it is said. And everybody it seems becomes Irish for a day - the whole day. And being as for the first time in 5 years the day fell on a Saturday, people were determined to do it up right. I know people who were in the bars downing the sudsy brew at 7 am - Halifax really knows how to do it up right! Locally, the consensus seemed to be more around a noonish start time. Either way, the popularity of the event seems to be growing, of course it is another way for the corporations to squeeze a few more dollars from our pockets. The displays of the Pride of the Irish and all things green took up aisles in the stores rivaled only to the space given to Halloween and Valentines Day. It's a bit like Halloween because the paraphernalia for sale is to decorate ourselves - Be on the lookout for leprachaun costumes next year! Mardi Gras type beads, stovetop hats and shamrocks - all green and a lot of glitter. But to be authentic it must be Kelly green or the Emerald green synonymous with the Island where it all began. 

In the last while there seems to be an explosion in the popularity of St. Patricks Day. Not just with those of bar age either. This year would be an exception, but maybe it's the time of year that it falls. Mid-March, we are finally beginning to see the tail end of winter and are ready for a party and a celebration. For some of us - get that mirror away from me lol - any excuse to party will do! The bars and the beer companies go all out to bring in the thirsty with promotional giveaways throughout the night, and we oblige by lining up, then waiting in holding areas before we are let in. But we feel so lucky when finally we become one of the chosen to get in, because through those doors are the friendliest people you will meet. More than any other day in a bar everyone is friendly. Like a family - we are all pretending to be Irish for the day. What is gone from the typical Saturday night at the bar is the fake people dressed to kill looking for a companion to brighten the darkness of the lonely nights. People who have no business wearing pajama pants in public are wearing them tonight because they have shamrocks on them. People are wearing "Kiss me I'm Irish" boxers over track pants - they look ridiculous and they fit in. This is not the meat market of typical Saturday night it is all about the congeniality. 

And to that end, here is a little shout out to the Meadowvale gang that we met. What an awesome bunch of people! New friends, neighbours and high school friends all getting along and enjoying each other but still with enough joy and laughter to share with even more people. You made the evening even more fun! I will look for you when I am cruising above the clouds :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May there always be work for your hands to do.

May your purse always hold a coin or two.

May the sun always shine on your windowpane.

May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain. 

May the hand of a friend always be near you.

May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

Ireland, is a place that I have always had an odd attachment too. I say odd, because I have no known heritage to the people of Ireland. But for as long as I have been able to remember, I have wanted to go to there - more than that, I have felt like I need to go there. Long before the days of the internet, I wanted to see and experience the beauty of the land and the people. My knowledge was limited to the awareness of the Irish Potato famine and the violence and devastation caused in the name of religion. Yet in the heyday of the bombings, I longed to go while friends wondered if I had lost my mind. The only thing that deterred me was money. I could barely make it across the street let alone across the world. 

Is it the struggles of the people? The harshness of the economic climate? The history of oppression and poverty? There is a beauty that emanates in the words of the poems, the blessings and the pre-drink cheers. There is a romanticism in the names of the places - Killarney, Galway Bay and Kilkenny. The is a depth in the lyrics sung by the artists like Chris DeBurgh, U2, the Cranberries - a richness in the voices that reminds me of the rich green grasses, the rhythm of the waves pounding the shores. 

You can have your Mexican and Jamaican all inclusive vacations on the sandy beaches. I dream to go to Ireland over anywhere else save maybe Scotland - ayi those kilts! ;)

I-rish you a very nice place to live,

I-rish God's greatest gifts he'll give.

I-rish you health, wealth and more.

I-rish your smilin' face were at my door!

And on this day an angel came into my life...January 27, 1988

For Rosanna - Chris DeBurgh

24 years ago today a child was born that would change my life forever. A child who gave me so much more than I could ever give her. She gave me hope, purpose, love, strength and a new outlook on life. She is the most lovable, hugable and compassionate person I have ever known. As an infant, when you held her close to your chest to rub her back or just cuddle, she would reach her tiny hand around to your shoulder and pat you! She is my daughter!

When I got pregnant I was ecstatic. I felt like I was on top of the world. But truth be told, it was also the time when I was the most annoyed at my Mom for "dying on me". I had so many questions I wanted to ask her about pregnancy and labour and raising children. I had never taken care of an infant, fed them, bathed them or diapered them. The notion was terrifying, you wonder if you will have the necessary instincts or will you fall flat on your face. I thought that if I had a girl it would easier - being one myself I felt like I had an upper hand on their needs. The odds of that happening though were not favourable. "Dad" was one of three boys who in all had 4 sons - not a girl in family. Deep down I felt like I was having a girl, but I was aware it could all be wishful thinking. 

The pregnancy was uneventful and unremarkable. Until the third trimester when during Lamaze classes, other Moms where talking about their baby doing gymnastics in utero, kicking and hiccuping. My baby was still and quiet and I feared that she would be stillborn. I never expressed my fears to anyone else and the regular visits to the doctor didn't raise any eyebrows, but the fear persisted. As it turned out, it was her personality and character, for even after birth she was honestly the happiest, most content baby ever. As long as her life-sustaining needs were met, she wasn't a fussy baby at all.

In 1986 Chris DeBurgh had put out an album entitled Into The Light, the above song "For Rosanna" is from that release. Throughout my pregnancy I played that track and sang to my unborn child as if willing her to be a girl. I prepared the room and layette for a child of either sex. I had a boys name picked out and struggled with a girls name. I had always intended to immortalize my youngest sister Linda by bestowing my own daughter with her name but there was some displeasure with that notion on the fathers side of the family, so I had to re-think my choices. Out of the blue, Lydia came to me. I had never heard the name before and I thought it was just the most beautiful amalgamation of my sister Linda and my mother Livia. There was no better way to honour my family that was no longer with me. 

Typical for a first born, she was late. I was visiting the doctor every other day and going for fetal monitoring daily as there were associated dangers with over-term pregnancies. At 41 weeks, the doctor casually mentioned that the baby's head was in my armpit. One of my worst fears seemed to be coming true. The baby was breach and I would be unable to have the natural, drug-free childbirth that I had been hoping for. My own doctor was as pregnant as I and with similar due dates, it was questionable whether she would actually be in attendance or physically able to position herself to deliver a baby. I toiled and fretted with this piece of news for what seemed like days before I had the nerve to finally speak up. I gave her a good chuckle as she explained that she meant that I was still carrying very high and that was the cause for concern. Unless things started happening on their own very soon a date for induction would have to be forthcoming. 

I was shopping when I felt the first contractions, but I didn't know that is what it was. I'm sure the other Mom's running their errands suspected as much though. I was determined to finish what I had started. Things remained rather sporadic and manageable throughout the afternoon and into the evening. It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that I began to feel pressure that came in waves. And still, I denied the notion of labour because my water hadn't broken but the following morning I agreed to go to the hospital to check things out. Yes, it was indeed the beginning of labour, but things were not progressing as quickly or efficiently as the professionals preferred. IV's were started to administer medication to speed things along, and just in case an emergency C-section had to be done. There was fetal monitor attached and more people than I could keep track of that came to check on the progress. I wanted to stand and be mobile but that was strictly forbidden although I am entirely sure why I suspect they had concern that they didn't share or I didn't comprehend in my state. My own doctor was there for morale support and she had called in a colleague to do the delivery and this was the time when I first heard about the real possibility of an emergency C-section because of a potential difficult delivery but they promised to try. The epidural was therefore no longer and option but a necessity. In the throes of labour, with a stomach that prohibits any reasonable range of motion, you are expected to curl into a ball so the epidural can be safely injected into the spinal fluid. And the anesthetist is questioning "Have you ever broken your back" while he jabs all over your back. Ha! 

I guess in the end I could assume that I was grateful for that epidural because the delivery was indeed difficult - she didn't want to leave - and when she finally made her entrance at 2:58 pm, her colour and breathing had everyone in the room panicked and scurrying to ensure her survival. I'm told she was born not breathing at all. It felt like forever before I could finally see her and hold her in my shaking arms. Never wanting to let go but terrified that I would drop her. A full head of thick dark hair that had a mind of its' own, she was beautiful and perfect. In her Mamma's arms she settled and was happy. Despite her healthy weight of 8 pounds 13 ounces she looked thin and petite, until you unfolded her limbs and saw her full extended height of 23 inches. They said she would have been very tiny had she been born at term, it is that last weeks that put the weight on the babies. 

Lydia was the most perfect baby for me to practice my Mommy skills on. She was smiling and cooing at me almost immediately, she slept through the night long before I expected her to, she was a happy baby. She was a happy preschooler, she was a happy child and teenager. We did have our occasional battle of wills and disagreements but they pale in comparison to the memories that brought joy and laughter. She is my proof that your daughter can indeed be your friend! 

There is a wonderful saying that I have often reflected on when it comes to parenting "There are two special gifts that we should give our children. One is roots and the other is wings". Today at 24, Lydia demonstrates both those qualities on a regular basis. She has her life together and is clear on how she expects her life's journey to proceed. She followed her dream and graduated college with honours! and she has been working in her chosen field since that time. With the successful achievement of these adult stepping stones, there was some sorrow for me this past August as I watched her pack up her room and move out. I never told her how hard it was for me to watch her, let alone help her. Instead I made light because like it or not it was her time. My goal as a Mom was for her to be the best that she could be, to conquer the world on her own merits. I spent 23 years preparing her. I couldn't hold her back now. She had done well and she was happy about starting her life with her "other half" and he is worthy. With my approval and blessing they left together. 

I am proud that my precious daughter has learned to fly and to soar on her own. I can only hope that she knows that she can come back to the nest anytime! I love you, my Rosanna <3 

For Rosanna

This is for Rosanna, sweet girl of mine,

A song for the baby who changed my life,

I'll never forget when I saw you first,

I thought that my heart would burst,

With the love that I have;

As I watch you sleeping in here tonight,

And I hear your breathing so soft and light,

I cannot believe all the things that I feel,

When I hold you next to me

It's the love that I have;

Oh how my heart it is shining,

Oh how my heart it is shining,

Oh how this heart is shining through,

With the love that I have;

And as you are growing from baby to child,

I share the wonders that are in your eyes,

And I am amazed at the way you change,

All according to the plan,

And the love that I have'

And when you are older you will go away,

You'll see injustice and you'll see pain

But never forget that I'm always there,

Like a shadow by your side,

With the love that I have;

Oh my love, you have your mother's eyes,

And when I see you laugh, you have your mother's smile,

And you are mine all of my life,

You are mine, all of my love,

You are mine, blood of my blood,

You are mine;

Oh how my heart is shining,

Oh how my heart is shining,

Oh how this heart is shining through,

With the love that I have

11.11.11 It's not a day or a moment...it's a lifetime of sacrifices that were made and a lifetime that I shall be thankful and remember

Highway of Heroes - The Trews

11.11.11
I don't think that this day can pass without considering the significance of the date. Some see luck in days like this. I spent a life time hearing about Remembrance Day being recognized on the 11th day of the 11th month at the 11th hour. Today everything lined up and at 11:11 this morning the radio stopped their regular programming and I stopped to reflect. 

I am not going to jump over the fence and suggest that Remembrance Day should become a National holiday again like it was when I was growing up. Having grandparents and other relatives who served in a World War it was expected that while you didn't attend school, you most definitely attended services at the Cenotaph and more than likely a church service as well. It was not regarded as a day off to sleep in or hang with your chums...at least not in the morning. My fear is that today with fewer families having heard first hand the experiences of war that Remembrance Day would lose even more of its' significance as students given a day to attend community services would find other ways to occupy their time off. I would rather schools themselves put more effort into the education students in all grades and of all ages about the significance of Remembrance Day, the Poppy (and how to wear it properly) and the Poppy donation boxes. Even if only for one day...surely we can make that effort!

But in reality, it is not a day or a moment that we should pause, but rather a lifetime that we should remember to be grateful for the freedom that we have at the expense of people we do not know. Today we hear an individual name on the news of someone who has paid the ultimate price in our peacekeeping missions in countries far from our own. We see the motorcades making their way along the Highway of Heroes. Are we becoming desensitized to it all...to death?

I never heard a lot of stories about my grandparents experiences during the war. But an experience in my youth affected me deeply when it comes to Remembrance Day. I don't know what that was however. A veteran speaking at a service I attended perhaps. What I do know is that I cannot make it dry-eyed through a commemoration. In fact I was escorted out of a church by an usher because I got so emotional one year. It has been said that I am overly-sensitive period and this is just another manifestation of it. Perhaps. But today, I am even more saddened by what I see as apathy toward the significance of the day. Shoppers continue to shop, fewer people wear the Poppy, and the theft of Poppy donation boxes is happening with increased frequency. 

I am opposed to war, killing and conflict. To my minds eye it happens all to often with a murky line declaring a winner. Reality is we all lose. Particularly today when some countries go to war not because they are threatened but rather putting innocent lives in the line of fire for a cause that no one really understands. 

Why is it okay to bear arms and head for a country on the other side of the world to fight because your government doesn't agree with their government. On a smaller scale is this not similar to turf wars engaged in by gangs in our own communities. Where did they learn that fighting and weaponry is the way to get what you want? Is this the example we want to lead by? If you agree, I can almost guarantee that you will be as moved as I by many of the songs composed by Chris de Burgh on the subject. The following is just one example. 

Borderline - Chris de Burgh

"These are only boys and I will never know how men can see the wisdom in a war"

Ironically with the immigration that Canada has experienced from people fleeing political persecution and seeking personal freedom, you would think that these immigrants would want to pause and thank the veterans who made that freedom they have come to Canada to enjoy. 

HIM V

Carry Me (Like a Fire In Your Heart) - Chris de Burgh


Not a song that is in the style of something the boy typically listens to but I like the message behind it. Even if I am gone I will be with you in your heart. Of course I would like to believe that I was there for both my children when they needed me...and even when they didn't :) 


When I think of the kids growing up, two specific things come to mind. One is having a day all planned out on what I wanted to accomplish and sensing the enthusiasm and innocence in one or both of their tiny faces...dropping it all to go sledding or to play a game. Coming home from work, exhausted and having to get supper started and they have the Monopoly board all ready for me! How can you not scrap all of the other "chores" and oblige them? Those spontaneous activities were some of the best times we shared! The other is talking! There wasn't a subject that was off limits. If it came to mind, we discussed it. And they learned very quickly that there was almost an anonymity when you brought up sensitive subjects in the car, because my eyes had to remain on the road. And the miles that we drove together...long distance and short. I feel very sorry for the families that drive around with movies playing for the kids - effectively detaching them from the family unit. I just can't imagine having missed out on all those intriguing, interesting and sometimes very deep and philosophical conversations with my children. 


So you're wondering when I'll get to the HIM V?


HIM V is something I tried to teach my children and I want to remind them of again today in their early adult years. It was never known by that acronym, but the message was there. In all those car conversations, in the supper routine chats, in the modeling that I displayed in my own actions. 


H - Honesty
Practice honesty always! Not everyone is honest, in fact there are those that are incapable of being truthful. With honesty there needs to be some tact, so if you are going to tell someone your opinion, make sure they are prepared to hear it. Lies have a funny way of coming back and biting you in the butt and it can be very difficult to keep your lies straight. The stress of keeping up appearances can kill you and in the end you have gained nothing. 


I - Integrity
Live your life with Integrity. Regardless of what the "Jones" may be doing around you, always be sure that you can wake up each morning and look at yourself in the mirror and like what you see. People have not been put on the earth for you to use as stepping stones to get where you want - unless you can pick them up and take them with you. Anything we gain at the expense of another is worthless in the long run. 


M - Morality
Understand what is right and wrong - and make decisions that you can live with. I'm not going to tell you what is right and what is wrong for sometimes there is no cut and dry answer and you must decide for yourself. I will also go out on a limb here and say that morality is not necessarily religion based. The church, the state and the people as a whole agree that murder is wrong. But what of abortion? Euthanasia? Think carefully...there was a time when Rosa Parks was chastised for sitting in the wrong seat. What is wrong today could be considered right tomorrow...and vice versa.


V - Values
Decide what is important to you. Set a goal. Go out and achieve it! Not having a clear understanding of what we hold of utmost importance in our life can lead us to spending a considerable amount of our life stuck in neutral and spinning our wheels. Review your values often for what we deem high priority today may not be valid 5 years hence.