Things I want my daughter to know:

I want The Princess to grow up knowing that she's funny. Her sense of humour is hers alone, and a rare gift. I want her to know that her deep giggles, belly laugh , and squeal makes others smile. And that's a rare gift. Her cheeks round out and her dimple sinks in. Her little white teeth only show off her bright eyes. She is glorious.

I want The Princess to grow up knowing that she has the cutest bum ever. She is gorgeous, and will be tall. I want her to know that I prayed for her to inherit the MacIntosh height and the perfect button nose. God answered my prayers and I want her to celebrate her uniqueness always. Bums sag, noses keep growing. Except for the MacIntosh ones.

I want The Princess to grow up knowing that she is brilliant. Some of her first words were used sarcastically. She understood undertone far earlier than most children. She loves language and drawing and reading and while I will continue to remind her that tattooing must wait until eighteen, she goes to town with all the washable markers she can find. She sees things artistically.

I want The Princess to grow up knowing that her family is special. That each family is special. I want her to remember her kindness and compassion for kids who are being ignored. Her friendships with everyone. How there is (and will have been) a time when she didn't know to be cruel, or to understand those cruel to her. I want gentleness to guide her actions.

I want The Princess to grow up knowing that she was created by God. She was designed to have her mass of curls and her long Gran Gran's fingers, and spritely personality. I want her to celebrate that always. I want her to know that her names mean "to cherish", and "one who is loved". Her name was intentional.

I want The Princess to grow up knowing that she can be anything. An astronaut. A banker. A writer. A dancer. A doctor. A musician. A teacher. A farmer. An athlete. A mother. A photographer. An accountant. A journalist. A taxi driver. A lawyer. Her dreams can stretch far, and high, and wide and if I can push them further, and higher, and wider I will.

I want the best for my Monkeys. I want to expand their potential. I want their confidence to bless others. I want them to see their beauty, know their belonging, feel the acceptance. I want more. And I'll teach them, love them, discipline them, spoil them, and fight for them every single step of the way.

Happy Belated Birthday Precious Cher-Bear.

On a perfect day in California three siblings packed in their Ford Focus rental car and drove to L.A.

When they arrived it was sweat inducing heat and one of the siblings had to pee like a three year old. Off they trotted down Sunset Blvd. to find a washroom and the Mesa Boogie store admiring the sights and smells as they went.

After cables and bladders were cared for they popped into more music stores so the drumming sibling could pick out new sticks, overpriced magazines geared towards gullible buyers, and flirt with emo cashiers.

With all the noise the two older siblings grew hungry and they moved four stores down to a fabulous cafe with the drummer sibling and his friend who happened to live on Hollywood Blvd.

Once appetites were well satisfied said group hopped into THE OPTRA. This was to be the car that would take them on the BEST L.A. Adventure Tour EVER.

Up up up they drove to see the view at the peak of Runyon Canyon. It was glorious if not a little too high for the eldest of the group. No guardrails? The wrecklessness. But dang was the cityscape stunning.

Since the highest of heights was conquered next came Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive. There Starbucks was had and Mitchell from Modern Family was drooled over. One sibling (not naming any names) yelled obnoxiously about their love for the show to all bystanders.

Fulfilling the dream of seeing a famous person in L.A. meant that the foursome could freely drive into the sunset to catch the last rays of light on the Santa Monica Pier. There they were serenaded by the sound of crashing waves and a street performer dressed in silver paint rapping to The Notorious BIG.

Considering that much time had been spent travelling like rockstars in THE OPTRA , stomaches were again demanding attention. They wisked back into the city to gorge on The Best Pizza Ever at Rainbow Bar And Grill. There they saw a woman whose face was nothing like anything they'd ever seen before. The hair was that of a Halloween creature and the face had spent far too long on the table under a doctors scalpel. The youngest in the bunch was convinced that this was a wax figure, setup by staff to add horror to the overwhelming decor in celebration of the coming holiday. When the face ever so slightly moved, and SPOKE, the youngest was aghast and proceeded to laugh like a child for the rest of the evening.

As bellies were stuffed to the brim THE OPTRA was given the glorious task of finishing off the BEST L.A. DAY EVER by taking this little clan to the top of Griffith Park so they could catch the sights from the Observatory. Magnificent cannot be used enough to explain the majesty of the skies. And that was even with the telescope closed for the night.

At the end of the stargazing the crew was pooped. THE OPTRA safely drove them back to their parking lot. Their humble Ford Focus was still intact and they braved the massive lineup leaving The Journey concert at The Hollywood Bowl that night and arrived back in suburban Pleasantville just before 2am. Tummies happy, memory cards full and joyful hearts overflowing.

That is how the three siblings spent their BEST DAY EVER in L.A. (and many thanks to Steve for willingly dragging our behinds around).

I have been so richly blessed with the friendships in my life.

I am grateful for the afternoon play dates when the kids would run around and the Moms would talk through life it all it's glory and mess.

I am grateful for the mentoring friendships that willingly walked me through some of the most confusing times.

I am grateful for the girlfriends who have known me since before braces and before blowdryers entered my world.

I am grateful for late night tea. For early morning coffee. For long walks. For Toronto evenings. For venting phone calls at any hour of the day. For friends who were willing to change diapers, make dinner, handle bath time and read stories.

I am grateful for consistency. For knowing that we will all be there for each other even if there is a time lapse from the last girls get-together or 3000 miles between us.

I am grateful for prayers. For shoulders to cry on. For the honour of being a shoulder to someone else, and for "I get it" even when I need a good scolding. I am grateful for the good scolding without the "I get it" too.

I am grateful for the laundry folding my friends have done. For the walls they have painted beside me. For the dishes they've washed. For the bottles of wine they brought over.

I am grateful for the parties they showed up to. The Birthdays, the New Years Celebrations, the Goodbye parties.

I am grateful for the amazing women who said they believed in me. Especially when I was overtired, overworked, unshowered and still in my pyjamas. Their words pushed me through.

Days get long and full. Schedules fill up, exhaustion gets in the way, kids get older, life shifts but I've NEVER forgotten one of these women. I am grateful still.

I have learned some important lessons in parenting that may horrify those of you without spawn.

I have learned that taking a pee break, reading a book, cooking dinner, sleeping during night hours and generally not watching every move your child makes is dangerous.

I was not foretold about the bathroom intrusion. Or about the cooking, sleeping…
I have chosen to take it upon myself to warn the potential masses. Here it goes...

Lesson 1:
A 3.5 year old can cut an orange into quarters with a small meat cleaver. The finger that got in the way only required a handful of stitches. All in the span of a pee break.

Lesson 2:
Child-proof lids on Excederin are not in fact, child-proof. A child can also take a large amount and still survive according to the Poison Control Centre (and personal experience).

Lesson 3:
When your baby is cooing in the crib be prepared to walk into fecal smears rubbed in every possible location. That book that was soothing your tired soul? Not worth the odour and cleanup.

Lesson 4:
If you blink your child will run. Do not blink.

Lesson 5:
Goat cheese and asparagus stuffed chicken breast could result in permanent marker swirlies on your freshly painted bedroom walls. And bedspread. And night stand.

Lesson 6:
Sleeping in until 8:30am on a Saturday morning could leave you with a bald child and a trimmed child. Scissors are on a ban now. And I sleep with both eyes open.

Lesson 7:
Bruises happen. When you think it's safe to switch over the laundry, the children WILL decide they have grown wings and leap off bunk beds onto sharp toys. Screaming is a good indicator that arnica is needed.

And one final one for today…

Lesson 8:
If you attempt to brush your teeth before your children leave for school cereal could be dumped (along with the milk) all over your carpet. Brush teeth after the school run. If you don't smile you actually fit in with the other parents more.

To my Dad and to my Prince.

Happy Birthday! …

I totally planned the Prince's moment of arrival to be at 11:22pm on October 3rd, 2005. I thought it seemed like a good way to make up for crappy presents I gave my Dad in previous years.

I also totally planned that The Prince would turn 6 and The Princess would turn 4 the year my Dad turns 64… Dude, can I time things or what?!

I can remember being really young, maybe 6 or 7, and my parents taking us on a family vacation. Their plan was always to get up and on the road before daybreak and before chaos erupted. One of these little trips (filled with hundreds of pit stops making a 4 hour drive 19 hours, etc) I woke up sitting behind my Dad while he drove. And I was happy. Like deliriously ~someone get this child a sedative~ kind of happy. I loved my parents, I loved my siblings, I loved the car - kind of happy.

Most days are not filled with that amount of giddy, spastic joy. And for the most part, that's a really, really good thing. But every now and then I get that bubbles-in-my-tummy kind of happy, only the feeling comes through all of life's responsibilities and stresses, which makes it so much more beautiful (and rare).

6 years ago today I felt that kind of happy. Holding my delicate baby for the first time. Seeing my Dad on his birthday hold his first grandchild for the first time.
Today, I have bubbles-in-my-tummy kind of happy all over again. Only one half of my joy is here and one half is across the continent….

I love you Seth.
I love you Dad. I miss you Dad.

Happy Birthday.