Dear 2010...I'm done with you. Bring on 2011.

So, it's nearly a week past Christmas and the usual end-of-the-year chaos reigns in our household. Overflowing recycling bags of shredded wrapping paper and packaging has been stacked in the garage; leftover turkey and ham is dwindling in the fridge; batteries have been drained, recharged and drained again; Moon Sand packages have already been emptied onto the kitchen island; fresh bubble bath bottles have been added to much-needed soaks; snowmen socks have been ceremoniously added to the laundry basket for the first time; Ferrero Rochers and cashew cans have been opened; gifts that needed different sizes or working parts have been returned or exchanged; wrapping paper and cards for next year have been purchased at 50% off; and my new Xmas morning slippers have already fallen apart. Santa was good to us once again. I hope he was to you, too, dear readers!

I'm still in the midst of my holiday hiatus, soaking in the simple bliss of time at home with family and loved ones, watching the magic and wonderment of children that sparkles with the snow this time of year, and carving out childhood memories and traditions for my girls to cherish, so I'll make this a short post.

Highlights of this Christmas:

• Watching Avie learn how to clap. She now claps for anything, anyone, anytime. Love the accompanying grin that goes with it!


• TSO concert with my Hubby.


• Christmas Eve Day cookie baking with B.


• Getting Mike Rios' Christmas card and trying to explain the nudies to my mother-in-law.


• B setting out milk and cookies for Santa and a carrot for Rudolph. (Hubby's first time drinking the milk and eating the cookie. He left the end of the carrot and some credible crumbs as evidence of his handiwork. I wrote a Santa letter to the girls. It was too much fun!)


• Brooke jumping around, saying 'I knew it! I knew it!' every time she or anyone else opened a gift. Grandmaman pulling B around the living room in the sled.


• Brooke actually hugging and kissing the box with the 'Singing in the Bath Ariel' doll in it (given to her by Grandpa and Grandma Louise).


• The kids' faces and shrieks of delight when Hubby set off the Christmas Day fireworks. Awesome!


• My jewelry box handmade by Hubby.


• Grace's Christmas Day 'bumpy' candy skirt and her cool hightops. Very chic.


• Rich shovelling the wrapping paper off the floor with his new snow shovel.


• Dylan's expressively unimpressed face when he received underwear as a present.


• Jackie's delicious Boxing Day crepes.
  
• Avie learning how to crawl--well, crouch and scout, anyways. She's never the same place I left her!


• Playing WTF with Hubby, Jax and Bren and answering some of the raunchiest and thought-provoking questions I've ever been asked.


• The kids and Brooke's new doll (dressed in it's tiny rubber boots, of course) on the sledding hill.


• Avie folded in two on the floor, falling asleep while sitting.


• Snapping photos of B's first venture on her new skates today. She may have wobbled like Bambi, but she was a terrific sport!


• And, the best one--Brooke's last chemo treatment on Dec. 20th and the resulting 'WINNER!' medallion she picked out of the Medical Day Unit's treasure box.

Lowlights of this Christmas:

• Christmas slippers that fell apart precisely 1 hour after I put them on my feet. Shame as they are so comfortable! Damn you and your poor stitching, Giant Tiger.


• And, tonight---B is once again at CHEO.

Apparently, my eldest daughter has started her own Christmas tradition--injuring herself every Christmas season. No real worries, people. She fell down and bumped her head, leaving a half-inch, and seemingly very shallow, gash behind. Might need stitches, so Hubby has taken her to the hospital.

We had a blood test yesterday afternoon, so we know her numbers are very high this week and she is at no risk of infection, which is good. Still, we called ahead and ER staff have currently placed her and Hubby in an isolation room. I am waiting to hear more details.

Deja vu from last Christmas. At least this year, we are better prepared. Certainly helped that Santa brought B her very own Netbook, pre-loaded with her favourite movies and websites. Sigh.

As wonderful as Christmas has been to us (I didn't even mention the rest of the pressies Santa brought all of us!), I'll be happy to have this humdinger of a year behind us.

Merry Christmas, folks! May 2011 bring you all the joys you deserve.

Update for January 10, 2011: I never got around to editing and posting the previous bit during the holidays, but I thought after this morning, I ought to.

I was on here, listening to my playlist when, Brooke asked me to play 'her' song. (It's a song we attributed to her upon her birth. Part of the birth video Hubby made years ago. It's on the playlist. Reader challenge: Can you guess which one it is?)

Anyways, she said she wanted to dance to the tune. So, I whipped out the camcorder, keyed up the song and she started twirling around. It was beautiful--until her legs slid out from underneath her and she toppled into a sidetable! I put the camera down, thinking she had just bumped herself and would need a kiss on the boo-boo, but when I saw the blood droplets on my little klutz's shoulders, I did what all mothers do. Raced her to the washroom to get a better look and get a washcloth to stem the flow of blood.

A gash on the top of her head--another one, not two weeks after the first one--about a half-inch in length and about six inches from the one already healing on the back of her head. Applied pressure, washed it with antiseptic towelette, put on Polysporin and a bandage and called Hubby. Met him halfway to CHEO, where he is now with Brooke. At least we're getting the use out of that little Netbook Hubby got B for Christmas....

B cried for a bit, but as soon as the initial pain receded, she was fine. She was more upset by the blood on her new favourite shirt ('favourite' as of two hours before when I unearthed it from the bottom of the drawer), which I promptly soaked in the sink with the washcloth. Myself--I'm still wearing my bloodied shirt. I should probably soak that one, too.

Anyways, don't know if it will require stitches, but we don't want to take any chances. (Last gash was simply glued together and bandaged, which B yanked off the next day.) Luckily, because she is an oncology patient, she is put in her own room and doesn't have to wait in Emergency with the rest of the walk-ins.

B has had one helluva 375 days! Just when we thought all of this was coming to an end, she has to go and bump her noggin. And, we are set to have her first post-chemo CT scan on Friday. So, it looks like it's gonna be one of those weeks again...Can we please get to Saturday already?!

Happy New Year, folks. Sorry for the long spiel.

Something Christmasy for the boys

For my hubby, nothing spells the Christmas season so much as the Victoria Secret Fashion Show. You know the one--the fashion soirée hosted by the most It Girl supermodel of the moment? The biggest fashion event in the world--the one with all of the angel wings and celebrity performers and stunningly glitterific ladies? It generally makes it appearance right after American Thanksgiving and has a distinctly festive feel to it.

Always gets my husband in the mood--in more ways than one! ;) And, it is definitely on his 'lifetime' bucket list. How he ever plans to score tickets to it is beyond me, but there you go.

Anyways, it's a great show. I watch it, too, because I love the costumey fashion and the over-the-top wings and the fab music and the sheer giddiness on those gorgeous girls faces. They really seem to love to be apart of this show! I guess for a model, being a Victoria Secret Angel is akin to Christmas morning for kids. It just doesn't get better than that.

Well, we don't have anything quite like that lingerie show here in Canada, but this Christmas, we do have something worthy of our boys' attention: La Senza's Cup Size Choir.

This is for you, fellas. Enjoy!

Secret Santa

So, I have learned that Brooke is absolutely the worst secret-keeper ever. I should never have trusted her with any kind of insider information, but as she was standing beside me when I made the discovery, it was hard not to include her and take her into my confidence.

Set scenario? Okay. Yesterday, I'm flipping around online while Avie is taking her nap, looking at the Jean Coutu website as Jax had mentioned to me the night before that enlargements were 40% off this week and I was thinking of printing some photos in time for the holidays.

Out of curiosity, I decided to check out photo gifts and found some thermal coffee travel mugs that you can personalize with a photo or drawing. I thought that for $19.99, Hubby might like one with a photo of the girls on it or some of Brooke's artwork. Would make a great Christmas gift for a proud papa who drinks coffee like it is going out of style. And, he never seems to have enough of those mugs!

So, my ''aha!'' moment arrived and as Brooke was beside me, I asked her wouldn't it be a great gift idea for Daddy? She jumped and clapped her hands. ''That's me!'' she exclaimed, as I tooled around with some design samples, "It's perfect!''

I then explained to her that it would be a surprise for Christmas and that she couldn't tell him about it. I figured she'd be good at keeping the secret as she herself had already 'purchased' him some gifts at the dollar store and hadn't mentioned them to him. (Now, I realize it's either because she's forgotten them or simply had no idea what she got him in the first place.)

About 20 minutes later, I hear her knock on the garage door to talk to her daddy (where he was busily working on his own Christmas surprise for us). She was going around with a little notepad and a pen, asking everyone what they wanted for Christmas, so she could send Santa 'our lists' and she didn't want to leave Daddy out of the game.

Hubby responds to her question with ''Clamps. Ask Mommy about them. She'll know the ones I mean.''

Yes, I do. The ones that were on sale in the Canadian Tire flyer this week. (Already bought two of them. No worries. A) He rarely reads my blog. B) He was with me and picked them out.)Naturally, Brooke comes back to me and says:

''Daddy says he wants clams...and seashells.''

Having overheard their conversation, I thought this was pretty funny and had to share it with him. So, I went back to the garage door and said:

''So you want clams and seashells, eh?''

Just then, Brooke pops out from behind me and says to Hubby, clapping excitedly ''Daddy, we just found a special cuppy to give to you for Christmas, but I can't talk to you about it because it's a secret.''

Hubby burst out laughing. ''Oh really?'' He looked up at me, his eyes twinkling merrily. She danced around, clapping.

''Yup! Mommy says it's a surprise.''

Geez, thanks Brooke.

An old Christmas card....

My tongue is dry from licking, my fingers are cramped from scribbling, but when I stack 'em up and flip through them, the sound of the thick little envelopes snapping together gives me great joy. Ah--the first wave of Christmas cards is complete! I've placed them on the hall table so Hubby will remember to drop them in the box tomorrow morning.

I know, I know. Christmas cards are dated. A lot of people don't bother to send them anymore, citing 'green' reasons or 'time constraints.' Others say they are too expensive to send and too time-consuming to make--especially when they end up in the recycling bin two weeks later. I get that.

Sure, mass e-mails or e-greetings are faster and simpler, more environmentally-conscious, but to me, they lack the personal touch, the thoughtfulness that stands behind the printed image of a cat curled up by a Christmas tree or a silvery skate pond stamped onto a beautiful piece of cardstock. It makes me all warm and fuzzy to think that someone sat down one evening, opened up a box of beautiful cards and thought of me. That the author paused for a moment and wondered what he or she would write to wish me well. That in a time of text messages and voice mail, the author picked up a favourite pen (y'know the one--the ballpoint with the ink flow that is just right) and jotted down a few words in his own sprawling hand.

Really, I'm all for being granola and budget-savvy, but I won't give up my Christmas cards without a fight.

Are you up for a little history lesson?

According to Wikipedia, English printer Sir Henry Cole was of an entrepreneurial mind. He was the first to commercialize greeting cards in London in 1843--three years after he had founded the Penny Post (which in turn made mail affordable to the common people). That first Christmas card depicted a family sitting down to a holiday dinner. And, although the card illicited a bit of scandal (since the illustration shows a small child drinking wine), the greeting card was a success--two printings for a total of 2,050 cards. Each elaborately printed little card was sold for a shilling, and the new trend was readily picked up by fashionable Londoners. The greeting card craze spread across England and Europe. The Victorian tradition arrived in North America 30 years later. And, if I have my way, it's one that will continue for years to come.

I have always loved cards. Well, to be honest, I love all writing things--stationery, pens of all colours, stickers and seals, little notecards or personalized post-its, highlighters and sharpies, spiral notebooks and loose-leaf paper. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a school supply fetish (September sales are hard for me to resist!) and I can't walk into a paper or card shop without having heart palpitations.

In fact, I am so in love with paper products that my considerate Hubby has even been known to drop $40 at Staples buying up half-price Hilroys and Bic pens, in an attempt to win Brownie points with me. It works. :)

But, Christmas cards....the lovely scenes, the embossed or gilded edges, the dusty shimmer of glitter, the meticulous sweep of water-colours, the heartfelt words, the hokey greetings....these are the gems of the greeting card crown. I love them. Always have.

Perhaps my love affair with them harkens back to my grandmother's farmhouse of the 1980s. With as large a family as she has, and with so many friends across the country and in the States, it seems like she is always receiving Christmas cards in the mail. And, when I was young and before she began wintering in Florida, she would hang them up all over the farmhouse.

They weren't just seated atop the mantle or buffet or tucked into a Christmas tree as some people are wont to do. No, she actually taped them along the doorways between the rooms and strung them up all the way around the window sashes. The kitchen and the hallway and the dining room. The living room and the parlour, too. All those cards lined up together, all those warm words greeting you every time you entered a room. It was beautiful to look at, and every year, I was enchanted by the sight.

I would spend hours looking at each card, reading the notes, wondering who all these people were. Either Grandma got a lot of cards each year or she kept every one she ever received and pulled them all out each year to use as part of her Christmas décor.

But it's not just the images and words that I love. I love every aspect of the card--from the snowflake or angel stamps to the foil-lined, colourful envelopes.

I love the eager walk down the driveway to the mailbox each day. The anticipation of a raised red flag. The excitement of seeing a candy-cane striped corner or a handwritten scrawl peeping from underneath the bills and advertisements. A letter, a postcard, an invitation to a party. It's a rare form of mail these days and I love it.

Really and truly. Mail like this, Christmas mail, always delights me.

Sometimes, I can barely contain myself and rip into the envelope right there in the road. Other times, I try to savour the moment. I carry it back home, my eyes glued to the handwriting. Trying to decipher who sent it, what message it could contain. A family photo, perhaps? A Christmas newsletter? A missive from Santa?

And, if it's addressed to the girls, well.... I never open it without Brooke, but oy vey--the waiting kills me!

And, if I should receive more than one card that day? Sheer exhileration! It becomes one of the day's most notable events and I bubble over in sharing the news with Hubby or my sister. No one else seems to care much, but for me, it's very exciting. And rest assured, that the card is proudly displayed for all to see.

My love for mail--real mail--is well known. Hubby has commented to me on more than one occasion that I should work for Canada Post, as he has never known anyone to enjoy getting the mail so much as me.

One year, during a particularly barren and disappointing Christmas card haul, my Hubby started sending me Christmas cards from work, just so I would have something in the mailbox to read. It was one of the sweetest things he has ever done for me, and my eyes filled with tears at his thoughtfulness.

So, to say the least, my Christmas card business is a chore I enjoy. In fact, it's not really a chore. Sure, sitting down and scribbling for hours on end can mean a lot of work. But it's a tradition--and one that I love.

Tonight, I settled down on the sofa before a roaring fire with my pen, my list and my address book. I opened up my Christmas card box that I hauled out of my office last week. (Tangent: I wish I could say that there was some great Christmas carols playing in the background, but Hubby was watching football, so I was listening to NFL commentary, instead.)

The box is a big Rubbermaid bin, full of Christmas cards and envelopes, pens and stickers, rubber stamps and seals. (I tend to buy my cards at Boxing Day sales the year before and always buy waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more than I need.) I sorted through the old cards, found the news one I planned on using this year, made sure I had extra envelopes for screw-ups and got down to business.

But not before I thumbed through my old cards.

You see, dear readers, I have never thrown out a Christmas card. Nor has any card ever made its way into my recycling bin. At least, not intentionally and not since I moved out of my mother's house.

For years, I too, taped the cards collected each year around the doorways and stairwells of our apartments, and then, our first home. So, if you've sent me a card in the past and worried what became of it, fear not. I still have it.

After I've displayed it for the season, I take down each card, carefully stack it with the others of that year, wrap them together with a rubber band and put the little bundle in my card box.

And, every year, I pull out the little bundle and go through the cards again. I admire the pictures, I read the words, I examine the photos. I remember friends far and near, friends old and new, friends long gone but never forgotten. And, every year, I admonish myself for keeping these cherished cards in my stationery box, instead of their rightful place among my keepsakes.

One day, I really will get around to scrapbooking them, giving each card a permanent home in a beautiful book that will sit on my coffee table. A holiday book that guests will be able to peruse and enjoy as I do each year. One day. But for now, it's enough for me to flip through the bundle of cards and smile at the thought of all of you, thinking of me.

P.S. I received the first card of the season last Thursday. Thank you, Brisson Family. I can't believe how big Alexandria and Charlotte have gotten. They are beautiful!!

The Activity Advent Calendar

I am all about making new family traditions. I feel, that when you become a parent, that it's part of your duty to create these ties that connect your children both to your family and to their heritage--and what better way than to create a tradition that the kids will cherish for years to come?

When her first son was born, my sister started the tradition of Christmas pyjamas. The kids all get new jammies on Christmas Eve, that they wear to bed that evening. When Brooke was born, I started the tradition of Christmas books. I add at least one to my collection every year. Brooke and I try to read one every evening during the Christmas season.

This year, I decided to adopt a new tradition in honour of Avie--it's a concept I read about on another blog. Basically, I've created an Activity Advent Calendar for the girls this year. Yes, B still has her chocolate calendar, but this year, I also decided to do something simple, but special, with the girls every day up until Christmas Eve.

I purchased two little treat buckets from WalMart (a buck each, notch!) to hang from the girls' doorknobs. The plan is that every day I will put in a chocolate treat (bag of foil-wrapped chocolates courtesy of Dollarama) and a hint as to what special Christmasy thing we are going to do that day.

For the most part, the activities are holiday things we have to do anyways--go pick up and decorate a Christmas tree, send out our Christmas cards, attend Christmas parties, wrap presents, etc. Other activities are just plain good fun: make Christmas ornaments, make our own gift wrap, create Christmas 'pizzas' for the birds, build a snowman (gotta wait for the snow on that one!), go for a sled ride, check out the Christmas lights on the Hill, etc.

I received some other great suggestions from friends, such as making popcorn garlands, building a gingerbread house, purchasing a gift for the Angel Tree at WalMart or dressing up for family dinner (think tiaras and meatloaf). And, I'm thinking of an impromptu Christmas dance contest, too, as well as a Christmas TV movie marathon. Other ideas I've come up with: making stockings for CHEO's kids (got the idea from last year's Christmas Day visit to the ER), eating breakfast for dinner (who doesn't like that?), and baking cookies for the nurses at the Medical Day Unit.

Anyways, yesterday I gave Brooke the buckets and explained what we were going to do with them. She was very excited to hang them up on the doorknobs. Didn't want the one I chose for and switched with Avie, but all's good. She hung them up last night while I was out Christmas shopping with Jax. When I got home, I went to put in her treat and clue and found the bucket hanging on the inside of her door. Cuckoo bird. Love that kid.

She completely forgot about the bucket this morning, so didn't notice the treat until I mentioned it to her. She was so excited. She looked at the photo I had printed off as her clue for what today's activity was and her face lit up.

"Look, Mom. It's a mission! It says 'Dear Princess Brooke, I can't wait to see you.' '' (It said nothing of the kind, as she is just three and cannot read anything beyond her own name. Besides, why would I write that? Still, very amusing to overhear her 'reading' her 'mission.')

What, in fact, was the photo? Well, it was a humdinger of an activity, and as Hubby noted, might be setting the bar a little high for Day 1 of the Advent, but I couldn't help it!

It was a photo from The Nutcracker Ballet, which will be performing tonight at the National Arts Centre. We received the tickets as part of the NAC's Share the Spirit program, which offers tickets for holiday events free of charge to families with sick children or families who cannot afford such luxuries.

The back story on the Nutcracker? It has always been my dream and that of my sister to one day take our daughters to that show. We've both seen it as girls (and I've seen it as an adult too!) and remember it as a very special event in our lives. It was the first time either of us got dressed up and went 'out' for an evening. The first time we got to hold our very own tickets and do something so 'grown-up' (even if the story is for children!) as attend a ballet performance. It was very special for us and we wanted it to be very special for our girls.

Jackie and I have been envisioning the night for years now, long before our daughters were born: we'd dress the girls up in fancy Christmas dresses and go for a special dinner, then to show where we would all be enchanted by the magic of this timeless story, the sparkly over-the-top costumes and scenery, the incredible music and cherography.

The Nutcracker dream is an important tradition we wanted to share with our girls. Months ago, we even considered taking the girls this year. (Grace just started ballet, so she is particularly 'into' the Nutcracker at the moment and Brooke is still enthralled with anything magical, princessy and fairy-like.) But, after checking out the prices for the event and considering schedules, we decided against it. Maybe the girls are still too young to fully appreciate a full-feature ballet, we thought. They might get bored and want to leave, they might fall asleep 10 minutes into the show--and at $60 a pop for a children's ticket, it might be better to wait a bit.

Then, last week, I received an e-mail from Tamsin, the program co-ordinator at Candlelighters. They had received a number of tickets to select holiday shows at the NAC and were offering them to any member family wishing to attend. At first, I hummed and hawed, was Brooke still too young? Was she too sick to attend? Would she enjoy it?

She has an incredible attention span for movies, so Hubby thinks she could handle it. I agreed, and after hearing that her numbers had gone back up this week, I decided to check with Tamsin to see if there were any tickets for opening night left. Sure enough, there was! Enough for Jax and Gracie to join us, in fact! Awesome!!!

I am so excited for tonight--and B is elated with the thought of seeing the show. The photo was a great idea on my part (pat your own back, Ginger) and B has been carrying it folded in her basket all morning.

Now, the only hitch tonight will be whether or not Jax and Grace will be attending. (Grace was not feeling well yesterday, so it is touch and go today. Jax doesn't want to chance Grace near Brooke, even if her numbers are high this week. She did just have chemo on Monday. So, perhaps Jax will come alone or take one of the boys.)

And, as for the Activity Advent Calendar? So far, so good. (Although B was a little disappointed that there were no chocolate treats in Avie's bucket for her to ''eat for my sister cause she's too little for chocolate--hey, Avie has nothing in her bucket!'' Note to self tomorrow: Put in Baby MumMums for Aviecakes.)

5:27 am and awake

I have this very annoying habit. I'm a pretty light sleeper, so the minute one of the kids even so much as coughs, I'm awake. Tonight, at precisely 3:30 a.m., Avie lost her souce and started crying.

Gave her a few minutes to see if she would go back to sleep on her own, but after 10 mins, I realized she wasn't going to and the whimpering was quickly escalating into full-out cry. Before she got there, I went in, sneaked the souce back in. Too late--now she needed to be cuddled a moment. A few pats on the back and laid her back down. Done.

Back to bed. Except, now I am awake. And, I've started thinking, worrying--about all kinds of things. I look at the clock. Suddenly, it's 4:30 a.m., and I'm still awake. Tossing and turning and just unable to get back to sleep.

I try to clear my mind. Get up out of bed, pour cold water on my hands. Nada. It's 5:00 now. I'm annoyed because I can't sleep--more annoyed that my husband is sleeping soundly and doesn't even bother to wake up to share in my discomfort. Logically, of course, I don't really want this. Why should he have to suffer? But, somewhere in my head, I want him to roll over and say something and sympathize with my situation. I sit up, throwing back the covers and making frustrated sounds. Nothing from him. Not even a stir.

I walk into the living room to get some cool air into my system (I once read an article about insomnia that mentioned that coolness helps people get to sleep, hence the water and air.) and to avoid waking him while I try to distract myself enough to go back to sleep. I see the glow of the laptop from the dining room where I've left it open, and sigh.

Might as well check e-mails. I need to get out of my own headspace anyways. Checked e-mail, checked FB messages, read some new posts on my fave blog sites. Now, it's 5:34 a.m. and I'm not certain if I am getting drowsy or more awake. I'm hoping that my body temp has cooled down enough to sleep and my mind will relax enough to just accept it.

Otherwise, I'm going to pay for this in the morning. And, tomorrow is chemo day. Although Hubby will be taking her, I'll be at home with Avie--and she rarely naps, so I can't count on her to let me catch up any lost sleep through the night.

Am I the only one this ever happens to?

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Well, not really. In fact, I can't recall a November as non-wintery as this, but it's beginning to 'look' a lot like Christmas in our house. Almost all of the decorations are up (with the exception of the trees, as we have decided to go with two real pines this year), Diana Krall is on the CD player and sugar cookies have been baked and iced (in hideously garish fashion!) and now reside in a Tupperware container on the kitchen island, awaiting eager little hands.

Still, I feel every bit behind this year. Not much shopping has been done (beyond a few Etsy orders and a last-minute trip to the Samko and Miko sale, that really only produced a few books), the Christmas cards have been ordered, but not yet started and the Santa letters, although in the works, have not been completed. I still have to attempt a new recipe for a Christmas cookie exchange next week, buy some decorations for the float Hubby has been working on putting together for this weekend's parade and RSVP some holiday invitations.

Plus, there's all the things I would like to do, but feel we will simply not have time for this year. (For example, I wanted to sew up somnot e presents and do some crafting in time for the holidays, but realistically, I know that that is going to happen.) This isn't unusual. I always have a huge 'to-do' list each holiday season, but I generally get most of it accomplished with time to spare. This year, I'm really feeling bogged down by it, though.

Why am I dragging my feet a little this year? Is it simple lack of time or a deeper hesitation? Not sure. I'm usually all over Christmas. And, as excited as I am for the parties and family visits, turkey dinners, twinkling lights, mailboxes full of glittery cards and delighted faces Christmas morning, lately, I've been preoccupied with other things.

A lot of it has to do with Brooke. She's been a superstar throughout this whole cancer ordeal--tolerant and rocker tough, but the chemo treatments have finally caught up to her. I find the meds are really taking their toll on her these last couple of treatments. She has not tolerated them as well as she has in the past. And, although her numbers are usually quite high, she's feeling the effects of the treatment.

Lately, her appetite is nil. And, because of mouth sores that she has developed as a result of the chemo, it hurts to eat. She's fed up of medication and having to take upwards of five syringes of medication a day (usually just two, but last week, she had an ear infection, so had more meds to take.)

Her balance and equilibrium are completely off-kilter, so she has been falling down and running into things more than usual--even for a naturally clumsy kid. And, of course, she bruises like nobody's business now, so the bumps and scrapes really look worse than they are. And, we think, because of her balance sensitivity, she's become prone to motion sickness. We've had a few vomiting incidents of late that seem to suggest she can't handle more than 30 minutes in the car any longer.

Sometimes, she seems so tired, or rather tired of being sick, that she just curls up in my lap and says ''I want you.'' It makes me want to cry.

This morning, I cajoled her into taking her medication and allowing me to swab her gums with a medicated mouthwash. It was so painful and/or yucky, she began to cry. I gave her some water to wash out her mouth and she spit it out. Then, she just lifted her hand up and patted my cheek and crying said. ''I just want you to colour with me.'' So, off we went.

She's pale, she's skinny and she's sniffly. She's sick of being sick and I'm sick of having a sick kid. I want my robust, rosy-cheeked, cheerful girl back. It sucks.

On the bright side, it's almost over. My little Fuzz Buzz only has to endure another month of pokes and bandaids and anti-nausea medication. Another chemo treatment on Monday and the final one four days before Santa makes his big trip. To be done with this whole thing will be a relief--and the best Christmas present of all.

I think that's what I'm really looking forward to this year--not really Christmas, so much as the New Year. Starting 2011 healthy and happy. Hubby and I have already decided to spend an LCBO gift certificate our friends gave us on a bottle of champagne to ring in the New Year. It will be a clean slate for all of us. I can't wait.

Until then, Brooke and I will finish her Santa letter. I'm going to include a post-script at the bottom to let Santa know just how great she's been this year. Brave, patient and the best big sister Avie could hope for. I think he will agree that she is deserving of an extra-special present this year.

P.S.: Wrote this yesterday--mailed Santa letters today. Got some shopping done yesterday and RSVPed to a few shindigs. Feel like I finally accomplished somethings. Good thing, too--only one month to go!

P.P.S.: The close-up of the cookies--yikes. Brooke has the benefit of impatience and lack of dexterity on her side. I don't know what the hell my problem is. And, yes, sadly--that's my batch.

P.P.P.S.: To my French-Canadian readers, Happy St.Catherine's Day! To my American readers (should I have any?), Happy Thanksgiving!!

Toddler talk

I am always amused by the things Brooke says. I try to jot down the crazy, mixed-up phrases as often as I can, as I always want to remember the way she spoke as a kid. These moments are fleeting and I can't bear to let them dissolve into the nothingness that can sometimes be my memory. Thought I would share some of these kooky quotes. Here are a few of my faves:

• ''treasure-treating'' instead of ''trick-or-treating''



• ''being boring" instead of ''being born'' (For example: ''When I was being boring, I was just a little, tiny baby.'' My reply? ''Peanut, you have never been--and will never be--boring.'')



• ''but I don't love potatoes'' instead of ''I don't like potatoes'' (I like that she is always so passionate about such a downright mediocre vegetable.)



• for some reason, she always says ''lemon'' when what she is really referring to is waterMELON. Verbal dyslexia, perhaps?



• ''wello'' instead of ''yellow''



• the common toddler ''sgetti'' instead of ''spaghetti''



• ''firemetre'' instead of ''firefighter''



• ''puter'' for ''computer''



• ''mote'' for ''remote''



• ''bitch'' instead of ''fetch'' (And when she was called out on this one, she explained to me that she meant the comment for the dog. This did not help clear things up until she actually tossed the ball for him. Phew!)



• ''mean shows'' for TV shows or movies that are adult in nature and should not be viewed by the under 13-set.



• ''daddy shows'' for any TV programming that is crime or home improvement-related.



• ''my bum hurts'' used as her announcement that she needs to go pee. (Said shortly after I notice her doing the potty dance, and immediately following the "but Mom, I'm not holding myself!'')



• ''Tim Hortman's'' instead of ''Tim Horton's''



• ''red store'' in reference to her father's fave store--the holiest of Canadian retailers: Canadian Tire. The "blue store" refers to Wal-Mart, while the ''green store" means Dollarama. These are her three favourite shops.



• ''black things'' for any reference to pepper, spices, or the slightly blackened parts of cooked food. She refuses to eat anything touched by these black bits--doesn't even matter if she was the one to put them there, in the first place.



• ''Oh, isn't that so sweet!'' when referring to babies, bunnies or baby dolls.



• ''Let's go girls!'' (This is said to Avie and me only in moments of exuberant adventure.)



• ''How 'bout I have chocolate AND cherry?'' (This is said in response to her father's question: ''Do you want a chocolate or cherry Timbit?'')



• ''Okay, darling, this won't hurt. And if it does, we'll put a bandaid on it, okay, sweetie?'' (I don't call people 'darling' or 'sweetie,' so I imagine she gets this from the nurses at the hospital. Only ever seems to come out when she is playing nurse or doctor.)



• ''I've got cozy, fresh socks on." (Nothing really funny or amusing about that one. I just enjoy the fact that my barely 3-year-old can appreciate the comfort of a good pair of socks.)



• ''Mommy, can we got to Donald's?'' (This is said after a chemo appointment when she is craving McDonald's. Not as funny as Grace's version: ''Chicken Donald's!'')



• and, although, she got a reprimand for this one (even as I was laughing behind my hand): ''Mommy, you are being a pain in the ask.'' I think you can guess what this one should have been.
  

Kids truly do say the darndest things. Love you, baby girl.

A few of my favourite things

My in-the-moment fave things:

1) Watching B try to feed Avie with a baby spoon. The two of them enjoy it for a few minutes, before B gets bored with how difficult it is to gauge where Avie's mouth will be and Avie gets frustrated that B is taking so long to get any grub in! But those few moments of shared giggles? Priceless.

2) Holiday commercials on TV--yes, they've started, and I don't mind at all. I'm hoping to see some tear-jerkers again this year. (Best ones to date? The Pampers Silent Night ad--huge, ugly tears every bloody time I see it!--the Tim Horton's one where the kid brings a coffee to his elderly neighbour while the old man shovels the driveway, the Dieppe Bell Canada one (my Hubby's personal fave), and the Canadian Tire no-fireplace-for-Santa commercial.)

3) Loading up my Playlist.com with holiday tunes and then setting my laptop to the page so I can listen to my family's playlist over and over again while I dice carrots or fold laundry.

4) My new lunettes. Browny librarian frames from Ray Ban. I like the contrast punch of dark tortoiseshell against my pale, freckled skin each time my eyes flicker over my own reflection.

5) Avie's two little teeth, set into that sugary-sweet, gummy smile. I love you, cupcake, like vanilla batter loves chocolate frosting.

6) Following the Enjoying the Small Things blog by Kelle Hampton. Vivid, evocative photos + passionate, heartfelt writing = great friggin' read. I find both her blog and how she views ordinary things--motherhood, everyday life, simple moments--truly inspiring. Don't even know her and yet feel she is a kindred spirit--or at least the kind of the spirit I aspire to be. Check her blog out if you need a pick-me-up.

7) Hubby's Movember makeover. In support of prostrate cancer, he has decided to turn his goatee into a moustache. To be entirely fair to the cause, he decided to start from scratch. He shaved off the ol' facial hair to make room for the new. He took off the hair on his head, too. He's a cueball. B has more hair on her little chemo head than he does now (her hair, by the by, has started to grow back. I love feeling the soft little tufts sprouting on her head. The little hairs look dark right now, but we'll see what comes of them with time.). In spite of looking like a newborn baby, it's kinda fun to run your hand over his bristly pate. Like wide-weave velcro.

8) B's continued love for her baby dolls. Yesterday, when we were preparing for our walk to the mailbox, she asked if we had a baby sling or a car seat for her doll (I was trying to find the Bjorn for Avie). I told her we didn't have one, but maybe we could ask for one from Santa. She agreed, then promptly unzipped her jacket halfway, stuffed her doll inside and proceeded outside. A mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do to keep her kid warm.

9) Getting back into scrapbooking. Made three pages at my sister's Stampin' Up club get-together last weekend. Felt good to sit down with the ladies, chat about the latest goings-on and get our creative juices flowing. Can't wait to make Christmas cards and gift tags!

10) Watching my precious babies sleep. Every night from the time we brought Brooke home until I stopped some months ago, I used to peek in on Brooke before I myself hit the hay. I told myself I was just checking in, to make sure she was alright and still breathing, but the reality was just to catch a glimpse of her relaxed face, dark lashes sweeping peacefully across her seashell-pink skin, her plump, bow-shaped lips sucking peacefully at nothing, an uncurled fist flung carelessly across a plush snuggly toy.

I stopped slipping into her room a few months after she turned two because I found that she was startling awake each time I inched the door open. I hated to do it, but I decided that her need for a good's night rest outweighed my desire to watch her sleep. (Why I simply didn't think to get Hubby to WD40 the hinges is beyond me, but that's besides the point of the story. ) Anyways, I simply got out of the habit of checking in. I haven't even done it that much with Avie. She slept beside us in a bassinette for the first three months, so I checked in with her then, but that's about it.

The other day? I did just that.

I had to wake up Avie from her nap to make it to an appointment on time. (Trust me, I did not want to do it. I HATE waking a sleeping baby--and it would figure that the one time I need Avery to take a short nap, she decides to pull a two-hour siesta.) I went into her room and just stood there for a few moments. Watched the breath go in and out of her, eyelashes fluttering, cheek buried in the brown satin of her blankie. Pure bliss.

Was so struck by how sweet that moment was and how I missed the checking in that I decided to peek in on Brooke, too. Cracked open her bedroom door. Her bald little head was popping out of her blanket cocoon, bunnies falling halfway out of bed, dolls haphazardly perched on the edge, books strewn about the comforter. Complete and utter peace and comfort.

Filled me with goodness. Really missed that. Thankful for the moment that reminded me of how precious it is to have children to watch over--even if it meant having to wake Avie from a sound sleep.

What are some of your must-haves this month?

And it begins anew

Halloween has been over for days now, and I am amazed that the snow is still here. It fell in huge, fluffy clumps on the night of the 30th, just as Hunter's Birthday Surprise (which went off without a hitch! He was so confused and stunned!) was coming to an end.

The snow, a sparkling white blanket, was still there the next morning--inches thick on the car and back deck. The chickens were huddled in the shed, leery of the frost out in their pen and the ice that had formed in their water bowls. It was so cold that Hubby had to shut their little door to the pen and plug in the heat lamp for the old girls. Their days are numbered, but no need to freeze 'em beforehand.

That morning, we defrosted the windows of the car and cranked up the heater, then packed up the trunk with costumes and pumpkins and treats.

The chill outside was palpable. The pines in our front yard drooped from the heavy snowfall. The chimneys of our neighbours puffed merrily as if each was trying to out-puff the others. The kids on our street threw snowballs and made snow angels and wiped mittened hands across runny noses with glee.

In fact, the entire drive to my in-laws was every inch a Christmas scene, and had we a holiday CD in the car, Hubby would have popped it in the player. The only difference between that drive and the usual wintery landscape? The pumpkin heads on the snowmen!

Parkas-over-costumes aside, the kids weren't too bothered by the weather that night. They traipsed from house to house, begging foodstuffs from Jackie's neighbours. They came back, after 1.5 hours of trick-or-treating, with rosy cheeks, chilled hands and bulging bags of goodies. And, even though it was a school night, we ended the evening by going over to my Dad's place for post-Halloween burgers and pumpkin cake. A good time had by all for sure.

And, now? It looks like Christmas is settling in for the long haul. The snow is on the ground (with more flurries expected this weekend). The songs are already playing on my car stereo. The December magazines have started appearing. And--dare I say it? I already received my first holiday party invitation in the mail! Sure, it's a community ''Breakfast with Santa'' thing sent to everyone in our village--and sure, it was printed on pink paper as opposed to red or green--but it still counts. Sorta.

Can you hear the Whoville Whos singing "Welcome Christmas, Welcome, Welcome" in the background or is it just me?

My little pumpkins

Call it a 'Wordless Wednesday' piece. (Yes, I stole that concept from another blog, although I can't think which one right at the moment....) Enjoy.

Spooking the pants off the kids

Been spending the last few days whipping this bungalow in the woods into haunted house status for my nephew's surprise Halloween birthday party. You see, months ago, Big H came to my sister and said:

"Mommy, for my next birthday, I want to have a surprise party. And, I want you to film it, so I can see the surprise on my face."

Jax was left stumped by this request. How was she to throw Hunter a surprise party--if he was asking for it?

Besides, it has never been easy planning a party for him. His birthday is the week before Christmas, so it's always difficult to organize anything with his classmates and friends at such a busy time of year. Everyone is always visiting family, attending other parties or busy doing last-minute holiday planning.

Last year, because Jax doesn't really have the room for an indoor party (and since December means an indoor party!), she spent countless hours finding a venue for the party (everything was already booked up for Christmas parties and events!) only to have three or so of the dozen kids invited show up.

So, after we discussed the situation, we decided to throw him a party well in advance of his actual birthday. This way, it really would be a surprise! And, it wouldn't be at that crazy time of year, either. We also decided to have the party at my house to help keep it a surprise--and because I have more room, both inside and out. Yes, it means another party at our house (that makes four this month, I believe), but that's what October is all about!

The party plan began as a pirate-themed shindig since Hunter wanted to be a pirate for Halloween, but then slowly evolved into a general Halloween party. Jax wanted to make sure that all the kids could re-use their costumes for the event and would not feel obligated to show up in pirate attire. She decided to save the pirate theme for the twins' party this summer. Might work better as a pool party anyways.

Since Jax is handling party foods and cake, my only real job is decorating and coming up with the scavenger hunt. The idea is to not only surprise Hunter with the party decorations and activities, but to scare him a bit, too!

To that effect, Brooke and I have been busy bedazzling foam bats, stringing up gauze strips in our spooky tree and blowing up pumpkin balloons for the last couple of days now. We also made a mini "Grave Garden" (as Brooke calls it) under the tree with some skeleton garden stakes and foam tombstones we found at the dollar store. We even revived Ol' Brunhilda, my porch witch from Rockland. She is now frowning angrily at visitors by the door, her brewing pot overflowing with bones, spiders, snakes and eyeballs at her feet. The place has really morphed into a haunted house.

Was fun to do. Hadn't really decorated for Halloween since we moved, as we are really in the woodsy country here and won't likely get many trick-or-treaters. That, and we have decided to trick-or-treat in town with the cousins anyways, so I guess we will never really know how many kids show up.

Today, we'll tackle the pumpkins. We have about 20 or so in total, but only about 5 or 6 of 'em are worth carving. I found some great pumpkin stencils on the Internet and can't wait to see the girls' faces when we hollow out the jacks!

Things I'm thankful for....

Was just going through Rich's awesome Thanksgiving Day photos (My brother has a great eye for pics and is my go-to photog for photos I can't take.) and spotted this dandy of a pic. My eldest nephew Hunter, proudly holding up his Thanksgiving Day worksheet.

I printed off a bunch of these puzzles and wordsearch sheets in case the kids got bored or needed settling down pre-dinner. I knew Hunter, in particular, would like them as he enjoys puzzles and boardgames and anything that makes him think.

One of the activities on the worksheet asked the kids' to write down things they are thankful for. A good exercise on any given day, but especially fitting for this holiday.

Things that Big H is thankful for:

• turkey
• gravy
• my friends
• games
• my house
• my food
• the electricity
• the world

Electricity? Which without we could never play Wii. A basic need for sure. And gravy. We could all use more gravy.

Directly from the mouths of babes. (Or, rather, from the hand of a nearly-7-year-old.) As you can imagine, my sister (his mother) decided she had to keep this worksheet for the scrapbook.

Things I'm grateful for? These dang kids. All of them in their silly, serious ways. Love you, H.

Farewell to fall

*Wrote this post last week, pre-snow and post-party. Kept meaning to make a Picasa mosaic of some of the photos, but haven't got around to it yet. Figured I'd post up now before the party becomes too distant a memory. In the meantime, a group pic of just some of the kids in attendance that day.

Woke to a wickedly frosty October morning. The skies are grey, the trees are bare and an icy sheen has coated all of the brown grass on the front lawn. The chill in the air has made me crank up the furnace, yank out some stretched-out slippers from the old pile by my dresser, and think about turning the closet inside out in search of warm winter gear. I know I have a snowsuit that should fit Avie stashed somewhere deep within....

In spite of the sparkling frost, the pumpkins still sit defiantly orange atop the haybales, surrounded by buckets and barrels of apples and gourds, all of them demanding autumn attention. And, they'll get it. Right up until the end of the month.

I fall in love with this season every year, but the affair is fleeting. As soon as the greys start to settle in, I yearn for the white blankets of snow, the glow of Christmas lights (the big, energy-consuming old school bulbs from the 1980s, not the weird LED lights that we all now own), the sentimental crooning of Bing Crosby and the scents of gingerbread and pine boughs. You're probably thinking ''same shit, different pile'' when you compare those tawdry words to others I've previously posted. And, you'd be right.

I have an intense romantic fling with each season--and it's a cycle that never seems to end. We flirt, we dance, we dream up all kinds of moments to sneak away and be together. And, when we've finally celebrated the season, consummated our love for the holiday--when the big climactic moment that we've been planning for so long starts to fall away, leaving us either gasping excitedly for air or spooning in satisfying post-coital cuddles--then I'm done with the relationship.

For me, it turns into a ''it's not you, it's me'' kind of thing. The season, a little blindsided by the abrupt declaration, agrees. And as we say our final farewells, we both tell one another that the break-up is mutual, that we'll remain friends, that'll we call one another for coffee sometime. I don't know about the season, but me? I'm ready to move onto the next big romance.

And that's what happened this weekend. After months of planning, we finally hosted the Fall Family Photo Fete, our big harvest thank-you to family and friends.

And somehow, all the details came together. The sun shone, the wind eventually died down, the people came, they downed soup and chili and popcorn and homemade sugar cones, they drank hot apple cider and chilled beer, the kids jumped on the trampoline and threw leaves at one another.

Sure, I completely forgot to play all of the games I had planned (like pumpkin bowling and apple bobbing) or ink up the kids with the pumpkin tattoos I had painstakingly cut out the night before. And, I forgot to mention to some guests to take caramel apples and the kids' goodie bags as they left. I even forgot to gather together the girls for a family photo on the haybales. I also tried to chat a little bit with everyone and in the end, felt like I really spoke to no one. And, of course, we had WAY too much food left over (I told Hubby to stop peeling potatoes and making soups!) and yet I don't remember eating anything. (I guess we'll be eating chili for lunch for the next month. Not such a bad thing, in retrospect.)

In spite of all of this, the party seemed to go off without a hitch. I only had a moment to take it all in, to look around and marvel at being surrounded by such love, by such laughter and joy, by such beauty--and I may have missed it completely if it hadn't been for someone else.

My sister shook me out of my 'party hostess' state-of-mind and reminded me why we were having this party in the first place. As I mixed salad dressings in the kitchen, she told me that she had walked up to Brooke and given her a hug and had explained to my little munchkin that the reason everyone was here was because they loved her so much. That they all came because they wanted her to get healthy and wanted to celebrate her. She said Brooke's eyes went round and big and said ''Really? Everyone's here for me?'' Of course they were. Of course. I myself was as stunned by the turnout and the implication.

After that story, I immediately went outside and watched over the deck railing as my girl jumped like a fiend with a dozen other toddlers on the trampoline, their shrieks of joy piercing through the chatter and 'surprisingly decent' (as my brother called it) music in the air. I then looked over at Avie, bundled up against the chill, in Grandmaman's arms. She was smiling a gummy smile as she people-watched, causing all of the aunts to coo over her adorable little face. I am blessed. We all are.

Hubby's moment came the following day as we stacked chairs and folded tents. He had to take a quiet moment to himself. He sat on a haybale, drank a beer and smoked a cigar, while he just pondered about how special our little girl is. About how much everyone must love her to have come and celebrated her with us.

As evidenced by the laughter and smiles, it seems like our guests had fun and I hope so, because I know that we did. It's been a few days now, and still Brooke is talking about how great 'her party' was.

Even though Hubby and I had agreed pre-party against making a formal speech, I kind of wish we had taken the opportunity to thank the whole group for all that they had done this summer and continue to do. I hope every one of our guests knows that this party was not just for Brooke--but for them. It was our way of thanking each of them for the prayers, the good wishes, and the kind gestures they made us throughout Brooke's cancer treatment. We appreciate everything you guys did for us! We love all of you! Thanks so much! (I'm sure that sentiment goes without saying, but I still feel it needs to be said.)

Sure, B's treatments aren't over yet, but the end is in sight. We can see the flags and banners of the finish line in the distance--and with all of these people behind us and beside us, their love and friendship pushing us ever forward, our little family will get there.

As quickly as the party came, it was over. And, after a little decompressing to settle my mind, I was left satisfied. I'm ready for the next great big thing. I'm ready for Christmas, for winter, for ringing in the New Year with her last chemo treatment behind us and only good health and good spirits for 2011.

I'll wait the two more weeks before putting away the pumpkins and turning on Diana Krall, but know that, from across the room, I'll be winking suggestively at the next season.

Getting into the spirit of things

Thanksgiving = Breaking in new boot leather while jumping into leaf piles, cinnamon sticks poking out of steaming apple cider cups, sweater weather crisp and clean, leaf-coloured tea towels and tablecloths, spiced pumpkin seeds and candy corn snacks, broken crayons and Halloween colouring books, cranberries popping into sauce on the stove, getting up early to put the turkey on, combing the laneway for acorns and leaves to decorate the dinner table, curried pumpkin soup, photos on the front lawn, canned whipped cream on homemade pie, frenzied hopping on the trampoline, mini corn cobs in baskets on the coffee table, using the 'good' china, lumpy mashed potatoes and pan-dripping gravy and green beans almondine, drawing names for the Christmas gift exchange, construction paper handprint turkeys in the window, blowing out candles on a shared birthday cake, Jack Johnson and Bublé on the CD player, the crackle of a fire over a rousing game of dominos, kids making cozy beds in front of the latest Treehouse holiday movie offering, packing up the last turkey leg for a midnight shift snack....Enjoying every single moment with the ones you love.


Happy harvest blessings to all of you, readers. May you and yours experience a wonderful holiday weekend!



Bren: Enjoy NYC with the girls. Have a street chestnut for me....

Three years ago

Three years ago, on a sunny October day much like today, you joined our little family. Three years ago today you turned us into parents. Three years ago today you made our wish into reality and brought us such overwhelming joy that we thought our hearts would burst from sheer happiness.

And this year, well, you have grown up in such a short time. Just months ago, we were waiting for your little sister to arrive and you were such a toddler--bumbling and stumbling, giggling and jabbering. Now, it's hard to believe that our wise old owl, with all of her logical reasonings and thoughtful musings, is only turning three! You hardly seemed like a two-year-old Friday morning when you waved Daddy out the door with a reminder to ''go to work to make monies to buy my gas,'' and yet you still were.

Perhaps, it's that you have always had an imagination and a vocabulary more advanced than the average kid your age. Maybe it's that you've grown a good couple of inches and lost much of the chubby babyness about you this summer. Or that instead of shapeless blobs and scribbles, your drawings of people now actually include facial features and legs and arms. Or perhaps, it's simply that you have had to endure more in these last couple of months than most adults have to endure in their entire lifespan.

We are sooo proud of you and inspired by your courage and cheerful spirit. We wish you many, many more years of joy and sunshine! Happy birthday, Peanut! We love you forever.

An October afternoon

The first of October---and like a terrible McDonald's ad, I'm loving it! Yesterday kicked off the holiday season--just one more day until my big girl's third birthday (and I can't wait to see her face at the surprises we have in store for her!), a week till turkey time (I'm already dreaming of the cranberry sauce), 30 days until one of the most magical nights of childhood (and Ariel's public debut), and just shy of three months of glorious holiday goodness. I can't wait! I'm like a kid in a candy shop....my heart is near to bursting with excitement and joy!



My artsy pumpkin collection has been on the hall table for nearly a month now, apple-cinnamon and pumpkin spice candles have found their way into nooks and crannies throughout the house weeks ago, and each weekend since the summer, we've been adding to the wood pile in the basement. I hate to admit it, but the Christmas tunes have already been keyed up in my laptop, just waiting for me to hit 'PLAY.' I'll wait until November 1st--but it'll be hard to resist, lemme tell you.



But, first--back to October. What a lovely afternoon yesterday. The sun was shining in that warm, crisp, brisk way that is so quintessentially October. And, when the girls took a nap, I slipped on my billers, doused myself down with some Off bug spray and yanked the wheelbarrow out from the carport. I squelched my way through the swampy grass (23 days of rain in September will do that to a yard!) and headed for the garden.



I spent an hour up to my elbows in cool, wet mud, digging up potatoes with little regard for my wedding rings or nailbeds, both of which required intense cleaning when I returned to the house. The soil was so damp and wet that it was easy for my shovel to bite into the ground, loosening the dirt around each potato plant. So easy in fact, that I abandoned the shovel altogether. At one point, the mud nearly sucked my boot off my foot and I lost my balance, landing on my forearms in the mud, my hands full of taters. It was heavenly!

I hauled in at least another 10 lbs. of potatoes and 5 more pumpkins before I headed back to the house. The girls were still napping, so I took advantage of another 15 minutes of serenity and planted tulip and iris bulbs in the front garden. Then, I walked down the laneway to collect the garbage cans, marvelling at the reds and golds. Back to the house, I perched myself on the stoop and just soaked in the sunshine. A perfect afternoon. The baby monitor began to squawk so I went back in--reluctantly, I must admit.

October, my own personal ''soote season,'' is here and I don't want to miss a minute of it.....

Autumn in Hammond

Obviously, if you're a follower, you'll have noticed that it's been awhile since I've posted. It's just been a hectic time in our household. Hectic, busy, whirlwind even--but good. I've been loving every moment of it. (Okay, that's not entirely true--I could do without the hospital visits or the teething, but everything else? Bring it on.)

Fall has always been the start of the new year for me. I never got out of the school mindset after university and now that I'm a mom (and a mom calendar devotee!), I can't help but still think that way. Time has been slipping past and fall with it. I feel like I blinked and September has already zipped by me, without so much as a how-do-you-do.

It looks like someone came by overnight and haphazardly brushstroked paint onto all of our trees, then shook them to dry. The rich reds and mossy browns surround our house in the woods, leaves clinging to branches or floating atop the puddles in the yard. Clearly, fall has settled in.

It really did seem to happen all of a sudden. One minute, I'm photographing Avie against the vibrant greens of our lawn, and the next minute, I'm planning an outfit for her to wear to match the flaming golds and oranges of the trees.

One moment, I'm pulling out a sundress from the 'summer box' that I've been packing up, the next moment, I'm rifling through the hall closet looking for a warm jacket that still fits Brooke.

One day, we're enjoying a sunny bbq on the back deck, sipping icy lemonade, the next, we've got a pot roast simmering in the crockpot while homemade spice cake is baking in the oven and the whole house smells of homey goodness.

We've had so much going on lately that it would be difficult to get it all out here--and just when I attempt it, someone wakes up. Always seems like someone is waking up around here--and usually it's me in the middle of the night! (I shouldn't say that. Really, Avie only wakes up at night maybe once or twice tops every week. And, it's always easy to get her back to sleep. I have it pretty good. I just like to whine.)

Tangent aside, I'll just write what we've been up to in the last couple of weeks as the thoughts come to me.

...Labour Day weekend spent devouring roasted pork among friends and marvelling at a fireworks display that rivals the Hill's Canada Day spectacle (another amazing day, Hendriks clan!), followed by apple-picking with family at Cannamore Orchards....

...recovering from a nasty cold that hit all of us girls in time for our much-anticipated Princess Tea with Jax and Gracie. (By the way, our two beauties were the only children photographed with the Royal Court for the local newspaper.)....

...harvesting countless numbers of tomatoes and green peppers, then canning them to fill our pantry full of homegrown goods....

...planning, cleaning and preparing for numerous back-to-back October parties and get-togethers, including B's 3rd birthday this weekend, Thanksgiving at the Jolimond compound, our Fall Family Photo Fete, and Hunter's surprise Halloween party....

...prepping the blind for duck-hunting opener last weekend....

...coming together for a family photo shoot at the beach and the chaos that ensues when Grants and Jolicoeurs collide....

...finding time to attend a firetruck-themed birthday party (and getting a tour of the firestation! What an awesome idea--thanks for the party, Donaldsons!) at a friends' house and a house-warming/tree-planting shindig at my brothers'....

...preparing the house and yard for winter--tree-trimming, grass-cutting, pumpkin-collecting, chicken-plumping, flower planting....

...deciding to take on the task of sewing the whole family's halloween costumes for a change (what the hell was I thinking?!?)....

...hockey season resumes....

...football season begins anew....

...PVR new sitcoms and old favourites (welcome back, GLEEks)....

...buying B her first pair of skates and hearing Hubby delight in his describing how he watched her wonderment as she walked up to the wall of skates and pointed to the ones she wanted (I'm certain it comes as no surprise that the skateboots are pink)....

...embarking on a weight-loss challenge with my husband, sister and brother-in-law, in which my husband has been relentlessly working toward his goal, while I...well, I do what I do--and it ain't much. Meanwhile, I am still in the lead, I believe. Take that, treadmill. ;)....

...supporting cancer-related events, such as Hubby's Participation in the Run for the Cure this Sunday, and my taking part in a 12-hour scrapbooking crop for Elgin's Fund for Childhood Cancer last weekend....

...getting the whole driveway paved at a moment's notice....

...Avie hitting two milestones in one week: she learned to sit up and popped both bottom front teeth....

...CT scans, ECGs and echograms, blood tests and chemo treatments for Brooke, all of which she takes in stride and has come to accept as part of her weekly routine. Hopefully, Peanut, this will no longer be the case come January!

...the usual everyday events: laundry, dishes, tea party with Brooke, itsy-bitsy-spider with Avie, colouring books, playdoh, stuffed animal parades, groceries, baths, party plans, clean toliets, vaccum up cat hair, dig up potatoes and carrots, make apple pies, repeat....

And oddly, amidst all this chaos--simplicity. Time at home, rare as it might be, doing nothing.

Curling up on the couch with the dog at my feet and the cat atop a freshly laundered fleece blanket in my lap, while the two girls play quietly on the floor beside me, the fading light of the sun setting their reddish blonde hairs ablaze. A fire dancing merrily in front of me, taking the chill out of the air. The flames licking over wood split by my Hubby's own hands. Homemade chicken pot pie bubbling in the oven, the aroma wafting throughout the living room. Hot chocolate steaming in a mug in my hand, marshmallows melting into chocolatey oblivion. Hubby hovering over a pot of soup, watching as the vegetables we grew bounce to the surface and listening to the sportscasters muttering football stats in the background.

Cozy and picturesque, no? Add some Bublé and some knitting needles and it could be categorized as damn right quaint.

These simple moments are the ones I live for. And, although I love the vigor and vibrancy of spring and summer, I find that these comfortable at-home family moments only ever seem to take place when the world is winding down, settling in for the long and dark winter months.

It always seems a little sad to me that the world is at its prettiest, the people at their warmest and the earth at its most generous just before everything turns dark and cold and quiet. And yet, it's a comfort to know that everything will start up again once spring returns.

Regardless, I look forward to this time of year from the minute the last leaf drops from its perch, but must remind myself each year to actually take the time to appreciate it. Soak it in. Enjoy it.

And, now that the girls have finally gone down for another nap, I'm going to do just that. I have a kettle boiling in the kitchen and a new magazine that needs perusing. So, even though there is a bucket of freshly dug potatoes that need washing, dinner that needs defrosting and a mermaid tail that still requires a few stitches, I'm going on the porch to just revel in autumn.

.

Random whatevers

Woke up this morning from a dream so remarkable that it would have made for a fantastic video game if only I could remember the thread of the plotline, rather than just fragments of my dreamself telling my dreamHubby ''Do you remember that cool time-travelling video game I used to play when I was pregnant with Brooke?'' (I don't play video games, so I know this wasn't just deja vu.)

Hate that. I woke up to B crying that Bunny had fallen on the floor and completely lost the details of the dream, which I just knew would have made for a phenomenal story if only I could have remembered it. Besides a few sketchy moments, all I can remember is the end of the dream, which simply morphed into an odd re-cap of the Friends Show Finale, as prompted no doubt by my watching Friends re-runs last night.

(In case you were wondering, my dream version of the Finale ended with Phoebe primping for Rachel's farewell in a bathroom with Ross and Joey. She then turns to Joey and asks him to help her stuff one of her black gloves with a giant foam finger (the kind you get at sporting events) before jabbing her own hand into it.

''I want to make sure that the last thing Rachel sees makes her smile,'' she explains before the whole group traipses outside to a time-travelling manhole and watches as Rachel travels backward 10 years to the wedding day that never happened and instead of seeking out Monica at Central Perk, she beelines it for an ill-fated Starbucks, forever erasing a decade of sitcom hilarity. Meanwhile, as everyone is waving goodbye and Rachel is disappearing into the ethers of the time continuum, Phoebe raises her hand and gives her the finger. Would have made for a much more dramatic ending to the show, no?)

Tangent aside, I also woke up to autumn in the air. A cool breeze wafted through the windows early this morning with the scent of falling leaves on it. Won't be long before the trees start to turn. Can't wait. Love the fall. Well, frankly, I love the beginning of every season, but especially the fall....

Cozy sweaters, crunchy leaves, crisp apples, tart cranberries, new leather boots, bright bonfires, copper and gold wherever you look, and celebrations galore! Love it.

This weekend was also cause for celebrating. On Friday, we discovered that B's CT scan came back clean, which was wonderful news! Looks like the chemo is working. You can only imagine the dancing all four of us did that night.

On Sunday, we baptized Avie (she looked simply sweet in her little dress and was so good at the ceremony. Not a peep from her or little LG. The same could not be said for B and the twins, however. Those three were running all over the place, giggling like fiends.), so we had a little get-together with family back at our house. Not exactly the bbq weather we were hoping for, but still a great little party. And, of course, both Avie and B were spoiled. We finished the day with $65 in ice cream cakes, but totally worth it!

On Monday, we got the full report from the oncologist. As it turns out, the receptionist was not wrong--the CT scan did come back with no trace of any cancer. The doctor went on to explain that yes, the lesion on the lung had completely disappeared, but there was in fact no change in the kidney.

According to the CT scan folks, there is no tumour there. They feel that there never was any. They weren't convinced of it from the get-go and now after nearly two months of weekly chemo treatments and no change to the spot, they are even less convinced that it was ever cancerous. They believe it to be a part of the kidney that collects the urine.

They only treated it as a tumour in its infancy based on the Washington group's analysis. It was a better-safe-than-sorry scenario and now the CHEO radiologists are even more convinced they were right with their diagnosis in the first place. I hope they are right.

Of course, that means that the only way to truly tell if the spot is not cancerous is to perform a biopsy on it. Brooke will have to undergo another surgery, but the doctors won't do it until after her chemo treatment is completed. So, likely early January.

In the meantime, we'll wait for the Washington group's analysis of the CT scan. Hopefully, we'll know what they think soon. Still good news at the moment, so we'll take it.

As for B: She is doing well. Week 7 chemo came and went as usual. (Another double dose, but she tolerated it smashingly.) A small amount of water came back up after a hasty drink on Monday night, but that was it.

Her blood count numbers are back up, so she is no longer neutropenic (sp?), which is great. She has lost considerable amounts of hair (a lot of it fell out in Week 6, not so much this week), so I will have to start getting her some warm hats soon. (If my kid weren't so damn cute, I'd compare her now wispy, fly-away hair to Gollum's from The Lord of the Rings. I won't, of course, because she is my daughter and that little CGI-guy is creepy as hell, but you know what I mean.) She hasn't been bothered by the hair loss, though. In fact, she seems to like her short locks at the moment. Much cooler for the summertime.

In other news, country life has its downfalls. I had to interrupt this post for a half-hour, while I tried to sweep a chipmunk out of the house. (Thanks, Ferg, for bringing the terrified critter indoors.) It skittered from room to room, into a closet, down the hall and has now found its way into the walls (from behind the dryer).

I can hear it chittering somewhere overhead. My only hope now is that it finds its way out again and doesn't burrow into the insulation and die. Trying to locate a putrid chipmunk corpse trapped within the walls isn't exactly what I consider a good way to spend a weekend.