Magic machine

So, two weeks exactly since our Disney wish trip return. I'm not even sure how to feel now. I think I'm still a little sad, actually.

Sad, you say? How could I possibly be sad after coming home from the Happiest Place on Earth? Well, simple. I'm here---not there.

I've got the wish trip blues. I won't even call it 'Disney blues'---for it was far more magical than just any trip to Disney could be. It was Make-a-Wish and DISBoards and Give Kids the World blues. All of these amazing organizations that went out of their way to make every moment of that trip and the months that led up to it, pure magic. We will never experience that level of kindness, generosity and good fortune again. And, it makes me a little sad to think that our lives may have to return to normal. To days when the only pixie dust we'll be able to find will be in the pages of our photo albums and our autograph books.

And, now I'm sad because the trip is over. I need time to mourn the end of our fairy tale. It's time to get back to reality--to laundry and swim classes and cable bills and publishing week at work. But, I'm not ready. Ugh.

Let me explain. I've been planning this wish trip with our Make-a-Wish representatives for months. I've researched, I've joined online forums, I've watched videos, read books. I put so much energy into the plans. You name it, I did it.

I found a group of 'FairyGodMailers' online and had someone send the girls a postcard from Disney a few weeks before our trip. (The idea is that when you go, you have to pay it forward. I sent two cards to Hope and Grace in North Carolina. Hope they liked their cards!) It's a wonderful little initiative. Adds a bit of fairy dust to the mail and get the girls excited about the trip!

Then, thanks to the kind-hearted friends I made on the Disneyboards (DISBoards), my daughters were selected to participate in the Big Give. It's basically a program in which volunteer crafters (many of whom are former wish trip families) choose a family to 'gift' with custom clothes for the wish trip. They sew beautiful princess dresses or create personalized t-shirts and then send them, along with stickers and colouring books and travel essentials, to the girls. It was....amazing. For about a month, every day the girls would receive a package or two, filled with surprises. They were spoiled. Rotten.

B has inherited her love of getting the mail from me, so this was just pure delight. We'd get so excited, waiting all morning for the mailman to come, then rushing to the box to to see what today's package could contain.

Such thoughtful and clever gifts! Personalized autograph books and adorable I-Spy bags. A crocheted mermaid doll. A princess picture frame. Books and stickers and Ariel socks. And, such beautiful handmade clothes! Cinderella ball gowns and Ariel pettiskirts for Brooke. Minnie Mouse hats and cupcake bibs for Avie. Matching jungle twirl skirts for Animal Kingdom. Orca-printed dresses for Sea World. Matching hair ribbons and Cat and the Hat aprons. The girls were definitely the best-dressed kids in the park. Honestly, people came up to me (at least a half-dozen every day), asking where I bought such beautiful clothes. I could have been handing out business cards. The girls looked amazing and I didn't have to pack a single piece of clothing for them. It was all a bit overwhelming!

It was just more kind-hearted wish trip magic.

And, then there was the Make-a-Wish (MAW) reveal party! The MAW wish grantors came to the house, accompanied by the sweetest man imaginable--Wayne, Brooke's wish grantor. They brought cake and balloons and presents galore. They flooded our house with good wishes and hugs and tears and laughter. Cameras whirring, bulbs flashing, princess tissue paper fluttering to the ground as the girls dug into gift bags and treats and passed out hugs and kisses for such generosity.

When the party first began and Brooke caught the first glance of the princess balloons, Brooke looked at me and asked quite wide-eyed: "Is it my birthday?"

It wasn't, but it sure felt like it was. Like it had been her birthday and Christmas and every holiday and childhood celebration all rolled into one. When the guests left, I sat there stunned for about an hour. I wiped away the happy tears and just mulled over the kindness that had been heaped upon us. Magical.

So, the lead-up to that amazing trip, was....incredible. Mindblowing. Awesome--but not awesome in that 'cool!' sense, but in the original, awe-inspiring way.

And, then--on September 8, 2011, at 5:10 a.m.--a white stretch limosine pulled into our gravel driveway to whisk us away to Magic Kingdom and Give Kids the World. To take us to relive our childhood and to celebrate life and merriment and innoncence and victory over disease. And, for one week--one week that passed by much too quickly--we forgot what real life was like.

It was magic.

There are not enough qualifiers and adjectives in the English language to describe that trip. To explain just how fortunate we feel, how blessed to have shared such an amazing experience with our children. Or how it felt to watch Brooke's face light up when we turned that first corner and the castle's magnificent fairy-tale silhouette filled the horizon. Or to describe the joy in Avie's laugh as she ran into Donald'd Duck's furry arms for the fourth time. Or to share the emotions I felt watching as the starstruck shyness that comes when a nearly-four-year-old meets the princess she's been dreaming about for over a year falls away and she throws herself in for an embrace.

All that magic, all that bliss--how can I ever convey it with words? What I need is some sort of new-word machine into which I could I could shake all of the the 'imagination,' 'sparkle,' and 'glitter' words from the dictionary. Then I'd throw in a cup of pixie dust, dump a bucket of love and kindness, add a batch of strawberries for sweetness and hit the 'blend' button. After some whirring and beeping, the machine would churn out a new word, so fresh the plastic seal would still be intact. I'd peel away the plastic and voîla! The perfect answer to the simple "How was your trip?" question.

I'm not very good with electronics and short on time these days, so it'll be a while before I get to work on such a machine. For now, I'll just say it was magic.

Pure magic.

For shame

I'm so delinquent with my postings it's ridiculous. I've managed to go an entire summer without posting up so much as a photo. Sad. And, there has been no lack of interesting events taking place. A week in Muskoka, a beach vacay at Wasaga, BIG GIVES, Brooke's Wish Day celebration, school supply shopping, preparing for our Disney wish trip, prepping for my Walk of Smiles....and the little bits of ordinary life in between.

To tide you over until I have time to get back at you--if you are even still tuning in and frankly, I wouldn't blame you at all if you had already forsaken me. I kinda forsook (?) you first. An eye for an eye and all that. Anyways, here are some recent pics of Miss Bee and Miss Aviecakes.

I present to you, Miss Bee meets Miss Avie for tea. They greet one another as only grand dames of sophisticated culture and impeccable--and never ostentatious! oh no!--taste should. Aren't they lovely?

Diagnoseversary

When I sit down to write a blog post, I often wonder how much of our lives to put out there. How much do you really want to know? What parts of my life should I share?

What may seem trivial and mundane to a reader might be a momentous occasion in our household. Do I bother to chronicle the lemonade ice cream, courtesy of President’s Choice, we tried for the first time this weekend? (It was heavenly—pink and creamy and so tart that your cheeks suck in and your eyes squint at the mere thought of swallowing it. Mmmm.)

Do I mention that the adorable baby Crocs Hubby snatched up at the Dollarama keep falling off Avie’s feet. As tiny as those shoes are, they are still too big for her!


Should I mention that we have already had a record strawberry haul, in that this week alone, Monique and the girls have picked (and then proceeded to eat!) three mixing bowls worth of berries?


Do you really want to know about Brooke’s sniffling the other night that kept both her and I awake until 1:30 a.m.—or how I’ve lost my maternity leave paperwork amidst a growing pile of bills and invoices and other things that are on ‘to be filed’ list? (Aw, man....I was supposed to look up that Service Canada access code again today. Ah, crap!)

I guess that’s what’s great about blogging. I can keep track of what’s important to me and you can choose whether or not you want to hop along for the journey.

You may have noticed that this is my 100th post. I’ve really been toying with what I should write for this post, as I thought it should be a reflection of who I am or what this blog is supposed to represent, what it has become and what it will come to be in the future—but, let’s face it, I just don’t have the introspective quality or the energy to be that philosophical. It’s a pretty shallow pool o’er here.

But, fittingly enough, today is her diagnoseversary. (I did not coin the phrase myself, I stole that word from someone on the DisBoards. I'm adding that to my personal dictionary, for sure.) A year ago today, Hubby and I were faced with our worst fear—our child was sick. She had cancer. She would need to undergo major surgery and an intense chemo treatment schedule. Her hair would fall out. She would lose weight. Turn pale. Feel tired. Catch every illness under the sun. She would have to make weekly trips to the hospital. She would need to take nasty meds that would make her puke.

I won’t lie to you. The thought of that day still makes my stomach queasy. I hope that the vividness of the day will begin to face, but I don't think I'll ever really get rid of the fear that the cancer could come back. Although each passing scan makes the next more bearable, I know I will never be able to put that notion completely out of mind.

It was a year ago, but I remember it as clearly as if it had just happened. I remember catching "My Sister's Keeper" on the movie channel a few days before, and crying uncontrollably as I watched one sister battle renal cancer and the other insisting she would give up her own kidney if her sister would just continue to fight. The tears were many more than is typical for me in watching a movie. It seemed an omen, to me. A sign I could not shake.

I remember bathing the girls with Hubby one night before the tests began and telling him "You know, this might be the last time we have healthy kids," as he poured bubbles over their heads to laughter. He told me I was being paranoid--and blamed it on that movie I'd just seen and some residual post-partum emotions.

It wasn't. It was mother's intutition. I see that now.

I knew something was wrong. That's why I called the doctors to begin with. And, I knew it was more than just a UTI. I'm glad I followed my gut and went to the ER that night rather than wait until September for an ultrasound. It didn't let me down, although it sure as hell gave me the scare of my life.

No, I won't ever be able to forget that early Wednesday morning, when I received the call. An ultrasound spot was available at noon at CHEO. Could I make it?

Well, I wasn't about to miss it.

I had just bought popsicles at Wal-Mart, when I got the phone call. We had gone out after Avie's immunizations to buy party hats for the twins' party that weekend. We were about to go home, but as the appointment was in an hour and a half, I just decided to go straight to CHEO.

I remember thinking that my popsicles would never make it in the heat and I would come back to a gooey, melted bag of groceries if I didn't act quick, so Brooke and I sat in the parking lot and devoured as many popsicles as we could. I threw the rest of the box out when we got to the hospital.

I can still smell that scent of hospital cleanser and Purell that permeates the halls of CHEO, as we entered 'the train room' (radiology) for the ultrasound test. I can still envision the discoloured Sesame Street characters peeling off the wall of the ultrasound room, the crooked bird mobile swaying lazily over Brooke on the table. I can remember thinking that I should go to the dollar store and buy some new vinyl stickers and give them to reception to brighten up this fading room.

Time seemed to stand still in that dark, quiet room. Just the sounds of jelly being squirted, quiet giggles from Brooke, noisy snoring from Avery and the clicks of the machinery as the tech twisted knobs and tapped keys. I can still see the surreal flash in Hubby's eyes as his darted over to mine and we communicated silently our daughters' slumbering bodies.

This is taking too long. What is he looking for? Something's wrong, isn't it?

I can remember swallowing hard when Jerry, the ultrasound tech turned to us and told us to go back to ER and wait for "someone to come talk to you about the results there." That didn't seem like normal procedure to us. If there hadn't been anything, it would have been a "You'll get results next week. Have a good day" instead.

I can still feel my pulse quickening as we fairly flew to ER, anxious to find out anything. I can still see the nurse at reception shake her head at me. With a newborn who had just been immunized that morning, she wouldn't let me into the ER waiting room where we might pick up an infectious disease. I went around to the front entrance of the hospital with Avery, while Hubby and Brooke stayed behind.

I can still feel the knots in my stomach, the plastic handle of Avie's carrier cutting into the flesh of my upper arm, the plushy fur between my fingers of the monkey I bought in the gift shop, just knowing that this monkey would be hanging from a hospital bed.

It couldn't have been more than 20 minutes. I had time to pick up a magazine and a granola bar, trying to force myself to read and eat to keep from staring at the numbers tick by on my cell phone. I remember the wild look in my husband's eyes when he came looking for me. The breathlessness of his words, the way he cradled my eldest in his arms as if he would never let her go.

I can still hear the sounds of the rolling office chair scratching around on the floor as we wheeled around the waiting room trying to keep a bored two-and-a-half year-old busy, while waiting in agonized impatience for the doctor to arrive. The way the door opened and he slipped in and closed it quietly behind him. His young face, pained with the thought of having to tell us that news. The hesitation in his voice.

I wonder if we are the first family he has ever had to say that to?

I can still feel the prick of the tears that began welling in my eyes as he spoke. I remember trying desperately to suck back the tears, while Brooke wiggled in my lap. And, most of all, I hear her little voice, as she turned around to pat my cheeks with her tiny, warm baby hands and told me "Don't cry, Mommy. Don't be sad."

Those memories won't ever go away. But, they needn't be the only ones that are tied to this diagnoseversary.

This day also marks the day when we started to cure my daughter's illness. When we found and removed the tumour that would have eventually killed her. This day was the beginning of a completely different perspective on life for us. I like to think that this day changed our lives in a good way--we are better people for having undergone the dark days that followed the diagnosis.

And it has just been a year. We are very fortunate--some cancer patients are on treatment for years. Leukemia treatment plans, for example, can last as long as three years--that's an insane amount of time for families to carry such burdens. Three years? Can you imagine how financially, emotionally, physically draining that must be for everyone involved? I can't even fathom it.

Brooke only underwent chemo for six months. She never had radiation. She never had any blood transfusions. She never had any hospital admissions. She never caught any of the illnesses that are typical with low-immunity systems. Overall, she had it easy.

And, the biggest blessing of all? She has graduated into the post-treatment clinic just after New Year's. The hospital visits are fewer and farther in between. Brooke is beginning to forget the nurses' faces. Today, she is cancer-free.

I think I'll toast to that.

Catch a falling star

I don't even know where to begin when it comes to this. It is mindblowing and two weeks later and I am still trying to wrap my head around it.

If you will remember waaaaaay back in February, after much encouragement from our Interlink nurse, we applied for a wish for Brooke from Make-a-Wish Foundation of Canada. Brooke was eligible, so we filled out the paperwork. We filled out the cute little questionnaire about her favourite colours (orange and blue), her favourite store (the blue store--WalMart), her favourite dinner (grilled cheese), favourite sport (she said soccer, even though she has never played it), etc. She also answered several questions about her wish and drew some accompanying pictures. We threw in a few prints of Brooke and Avie (as they asked for photos, too) and hoped we'd hear from them.

Well, fast forward a few weeks (nine to be exact!) and a polite query to see where the status on Brooke's application stood. Immediately following my e-mail, we received a call from Anne, our local Make-a-Wish (MAW) co-ordinator. She told us that they had not forgotten us and were, in fact, going to contact us shortly to arrange a meeting between our little family and some volunteer wish grantors. She said that ''our daughters were beautiful and they were honoured and looking forward to granting Brooke's wish.''

Sold. That sentence alone was enough for me.

A week later and we had a date for our little meeting. Anne herself would be coming (I couldn't have been more pleased as she was so sweet on the phone) and so would another volunteer named Laura. They were to come that Saturday morning.

On Saturday, I vacuumed the house like a fiend and cleaned up a bit. It was raining outside (uh---until yesterday, when has it not this spring?!?), so I knew we would have our meeting inside. I made a pitcher of iced tea. Hot Wife will tell you that I love iced tea. Hubby put on a pot of coffee. Hot Wife will tell you that Hubby likes his coffee. We were prepared.

The day before the wish visit, I had told Brooke that her fairy godmothers would be coming to grant her her wish. Her response--and I should have expected this--''Will they be coming in a car or by their wings?'' (When I told this to Anne and Laura, they laughed. Laura has determined to get herself a pair of wings and a wand for her next wish-granting visit.) Curious about the fairy godmothers, Brooke prepared herself for her wish.



Anne arrived first, carrying with her a huge gift bag. Brooke was so excited, that she gave Anne a hug before the woman had even stepped over the threshold. We welcomed her in and that's when the magic began.

We chitchatted until Laura arrived a few minutes later. The ladies were simply lovely. They told us all about MAW and then, not wanting to keep Brooke waiting any longer, handed her the gift bag.



MAW always tries to have a little 'icebreaker' gift for the wish child. Well, Anne and Laura went above and beyond. They had clearly read that questionnaire and knew just what Brooke liked. They brought Brooke an Ariel books-on-CD set, a huge tub of Play-Doh and a giant Ariel teapot, full of tea party dishes with the mermaid princess etched on them. Brooke was delighted, to say the least! They even brought Avie a little something--some chunky Crayola crayons for the bath. Perfect!

Brooke busied herself with the teapot (pouring tea for all of us) while we adults discussed Brooke's wishes. She needed to have three of them--but one had already been 'fulfilled.'

Brooke's third wish had been 'for a park,' which we interpreted as a swingset/slide playstructure. One had been massively on sale at Toys R Us a few weeks beforehand, and not knowing if the wish would ever be granted, we went ahead and bought it. Brooke and Avie would need it this summer if they were to spend the whole summer at home with my mother-in-law instead of at daycare.



Then, it was time for the formal wish from Brooke. Anne pulled something out of her bag and handed it to Laura. Laura started unwinding this little trinket and revealed that it was a special wishing star necklace. She clasped it around Brooke's necklace and it began to glow with a blue light! I started to get goosebumps, as Laura asked Brooke what her wish was.



Brooke's wish? ''I want to see all the princesses checked off in my book.'' The ladies laughed at that and asked "What book?"

Remember that Disney Princess magazine Brooke's picture was in last spring? Well, shortly after her 'win,' I ordered a subscription for her. (Which was a good thing, too! Getting her monthly magazine was a wonderful distraction for her when in the hospital.) Anyways, there is a page in each issue that has a space for readers to draw their favourite princess. Around the border of the page is a picture of eacho f the princesses with a checkbox beside it so that readers can select which ones are their favourites. Brooke had checked them all off.

Brooke raced over to the table, grabbed her magazine and flipped it open to that page to show Anne and Laura, naming each princess along the edge and stating how Ariel was her favourite and that's the one she most wanted to meet. She continued that she had all of the Ariel movies and was even Ariel for Halloween. (She also insisted on showing them the tail I had sewn back in the fall for the costume.) And, finally, how she wanted to see the princesses at their castle in Disney.

Well, folks, the grantors looked at each other and then at us and said ''We think we can do that.''

Then they launched into details about the trip to Disney World and how we would stay at this amazing resort just for sick and special needs children called Give Kids the World. I knew much about these trips already from joining an online forum for wishtrippers back in March. At the time, I didn't know if Brooke was going to get her wish granted, but I had hoped against hope! And, being my neurotic, research-crazy self, I needed to know more about these trips--just in case. I just sat there on the floor, listening to the volunteers talk about the beautiful parades and the wonderful resort, stunned. Teary-eyed. Her wish was coming true!

As much as I wanted her wish to come true, I hadn't really banked on it. I even outlined the second wish (princess for a day) in detail to the ladies, as the first one seemed soooo 'big.' Almost unrealistic. (We even started looking into how much it would cost us to take the girls to Disney next spring if the wish fell through. We were determined to make her wish to meet Ariel a reality.)

And, we thought, there are just so many kids who are (and don't get me wrong, I am beyond thankful for this!) more priority than Brooke. Kids who are terminal, kids who have chronic pain and illnesses. Kids who won't ever get old. We figured Brooke wouldn't be selected in favour of those children. And, we were fine with that. In our minds, there are kids who deserve it more. (Not that she doesn't deserve it--just that there are others who could benefit from it more than she.)

This, however, couldn't be further from the truth. It's a myth that kids need to be on terminal to have their wishes granted. Kids don't even have to currently be ill to be wish kids. Lots of children with serious illnesses qualify, but not everyone knows this. And, no wish child is ever deemed 'less important' than another. All of them get a wish. And, most of them grow up to be healthy, happy adults.

As one MAW volunteer, who is a friend of a friend, put it--a wish is a way to make up for all of the pain and discomfort of hospital visits and treatments that the kid has had to endure. ''At the end of the day,'' she said, ''the nurses and doctors get their paycheque. This is yours.''

But, still--something as big as Disney?! But, as Anne explained, the problem isn't funding. Although they always welcome and appreciate donations, MAW has plenty of that--what they don't have is enough wish grantors and volunteers to make the wishes happen. And even fewer wish kids. (So, if you know of a kid between the ages of 3 and 18 who has or has had a serious illness, regardless of their health right now, encourage their families to refer them to MAW.)

Anyways, after the wish grantors left (leaving behind a MAW star magnet and chocolate, fish-shaped treats for Brooke), we nearly jumped out of our skin from sheer excitement!

Within two days, not only had Anne and Laura called to confirm that Brooke would be going to Disney, but they had already confirmed our flight, a reservation to Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique salon (for a princess makeover) in Magic Kingdom, followed by lunch with the princesses at Cinderella's Castle. Amazing! We were elated. Totally walking on air!



We are currently making plans for our trip, which we will be taking from September 8 to 15, 2011. We can't wait! We've decided to keep it a surprise from Brooke for now. Anne and Laura want to plan a special 'presentation' for the actual wish package (tickets, expense cheque and flight info, etc.), probably a month or so before the trip, and we'll wait until then to tell Brooke about her wish coming true. They are doing all the work (really, MAW doesn't want us to lift a finger!), so they should get the honour!

And, besides--Brooke has no concept of time, so how would she be able to understand that we are only going in three months? She would ask me every day if today was the day we're going to Disney.

So, yeah--to say the least, it's been pretty friggin' exciting around here lately.



Brooke caught a falling star and she put it in her pocket. She saved it for a rainy day. And that day came. And, with it a special wish.

We are beyond thrilled to be going on this amazing trip with our little girls. It really will be a dream come true!

P.S. Apologies for the huge pics. Am using Photobucket to upload pics nowadays and still haven't figured out the correct sizing yet. Clearly, I have my homework to do.

Making a difference

Every May, Hubby participates in the CN Tour--a cycling and walking event that raises money for CHEO (Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario) and the local Candlelighters chapter (an organization that provides financial, emotional and medical support for families with children suffering from cancer). He's probably cycled in this yearly event for the past four or five years.

And every year, the same scenario plays out--he forgets he's signed up for it until about two weeks before the event and then he makes a half-hearted effort to raise funds. He often ends up getting a few donations, but the bulk of it is a self-donation he makes as a result of feeling guilty for not canvassing enough. He generally raises a few hundred bucks, but never anything significant.

Not 2011. This year, cycling the 70km for CHEO and Candlelighters means so much more than it has ever before. The tagline for the event is 'Help Kids with Cancer.' Uh...yeah, as you can imagine, we're pretty emotionally tied to that one.

Over the course of this past year, we have been on the receiving end of the support offered by these great organizations. The programs. The compassion. The thoughtfulness. The respect. The amazing staff. Words are simply not enough. Both organizations have been behind us 125% during this whole process. We've seen how the money they raise is actually spent. We've seen how much more is needed. (Trust us, there was a period of time, we wondered how we could afford to purchase one of those expensive, but oh-so-wonderful blanket warming machines. We so desperately wanted to get one for Ward 4North!) And, in the end, we know how much these deserving organizations appreciate our help--in whatever form we can provide it.

Although it is a big fundraising event for CHEO, it's not the only one--but, the CN Tour is the premier fundraising event for Candlelighters. Last year, the event brought in over $570,000 for both organizations, which is fantastic--but the need is great. So, once again, the goal for this year's event is blowing last year's total out of the water!

This year, with Brooke as his inspiration, Hubby decided to set a CN Tour goal for himself. His team's fundraising target was $2,000 and Hubby's personal goal was half of it. $1,000 seemed a far reach, but he was determined to make it--even if he had to donate the remainder himself, he was determined to see it through!

Well, here we are a week from the event and he's at $1,150! We are so proud of him.

Of course, every bit counts, but this year, it feels good to say we've done our best to make a significant contribution (or at least a genuine effort to make others aware of how wonderful CHEO and Candlelighters has been to us and to many other childhood cancer families in our community). We feel really good about being able to give back to these organizations that have helped us so much this last year.

Anyways, all this to say, that we've set a new goal for ourselves! We are trying to make it to $1,500 by the end of the week. So, if you haven't been completely tapped donating to your own personal causes and have a spare $10 to give to a good cause (tax receipt supplied, of course!), please check out Hubby's site: CN Cycle for CHEO. We would be most obliged!

And, if you are interested in participating, it's not too late to register or volunteer! Lots of races (cycling, walking or in-line skating) to partake in and lots of good, old-fashioned, kid-friendly fun (think bbq, Little Ray's Reptiles animal demonstrations, moon bounces, clowns, face-painting, Craz-E-Crew stunt show, magic show, slides, etc.) that will take place at the Canadian War Museum parking lot (at the Lebreton Flats) during the races and afterwards. You can even bring along the family dog. Definitely not an event to be missed!

Hubby will be cycling the 70km on the morning of May 1st with his team from work. B, Avie and I will walk in the Family 5km. Well, the girls will be waving like royalty from the fine comfort of their little red wagon, while I'll be the one hoofing it, but it'll be fun nonetheless. Hope to see you there!

Innocent Wonder -- I Heart Faces Photo Challenge

Happy belated birthday, SnapHappy! A year and nearly a month after beginning this blog and I find myself reflecting on its purpose.

Originally, this little venture into the World Wide Web was an attempt at chronicling my journey into motherhood for a second time. I was going to spend 365 days photographing life at home with my young girls, documenting their childhood and the special moments that make up our memories. I was going to share my photos and my thoughts with my audience with the aim to amuse and entertain. I was going to research and compile and publish articles and how-tos on all things mommy, like where to find local water play parks or how to make pinwheel pencil crafts.

Silly and fun, thought-provoking and profound, the blog postings were going to be printed and bound, souvenirs of a mother's unconditional love for her crazy, kooky kids.

Unfortunately, that is not what the universe had in store for me. This summer, the blog became a vehicle with which to inform family and friends about the recent goings-on of Brooke's diagnosis and subsequent cancer treatment.

A valuable tool--the blog allowed me to convey the innermost workings of my mind to my loved ones without my having to say a word. After repeating the story 101 times to various doctors and family members, I was mentally exhausted--and the blog became my retreat.

Writing--and photography, for that matter--has always comforted me. So, it was natural that I took to the blogosphere to heal from the shock and the ordeal that we endured this summer and fall. Thank you, SnapHappy, for allowing me to pour out my heart to you. And, thank you, readers, for continuing to tune in. I apologize that SnapHappy did not live up to its purpose, but hopefully, one day I will get back to my simple plan and chronicle that mommyhood journey.

And, to that end, I recently stumbled upon a website I am sure to follow obsessively called I Heart Faces. It's a photography website for amateurs. A whole community of snaphappy folks gather there to be inspired, improve their photo-taking skills and share their talents behind the lens. The site also hosts a weekly photo challenge with themed entries.

It's a long shot, as I am in no way a professional, but I thought I would take a stab at contributing to this week's photo challenge, if for no other reason than to force me to sit down in front of Picasa and sort through the images that have haunted my SD cards for months now.

This week's theme is 'Innocent Wonder,' which as you can imagine, is about as broad a theme as you can perceive. I figured my entry would be a photo I took this summer before all the hoopla began.

My 'Innocent Wonder' entry is a photo of my daughter enjoying the first fruits of the season--teeny, tiny strawberries that were as tart as they were delicious. I like this photo because of the expression on my country girl's little face. Thoughtful and delighted. I can only imagine what wonders she was mulling over.

Wander over to I Heart Faces challenge and let me know what you think. A chance in hell? Hardly, but inspiring nonetheless. Enjoy!

Status quo maintained

So, quick post. CT scan and MRI results are in: the status quo is maintained. No change in the lesion on her kidney (which they have believed to be a physical anatomical anomaly since June) and no further evidence of pulmonary lesions. Her remaining kidney has grown in size, which is great since that's what it is supposed to do, now that she is down to one. So, all in all, she's in the clear once again.

Cardio- and echograms next week, then just monthly returns to the MDU to flush out her port-a-cath until they schedule a surgery to remove it. To me, it won't really be over until the surgery, which likely won't take place until May. B will still have to take weekly doses of Septra (the preventative antibiotic) until the end of June, but so far, it looks like the mists are clearing and some sunshine is appearing in the distance. The road before us is opening up and the surroundings are becoming more and more familiar to us. An end to our journey come early summer? Definitely a cause for celebration!

Anyways, Hubby just returned from a week in Vancouver and is jetlaggedly napping in the next room. He'll need his rest for tonight, as we have dinner with friends and a Sens game to attend tonight. Meanwhile, B is busy making Valentines (yeah, we start crafting and decorating early in this house. As Hubby explained it to his brother--''decorating is more of a marathon sport for Ginger. She starts early and takes her time because there's a lot of it.'') and Avie has conked out for her own much-deserved nap. I guess I'll go do some laundry.

BTW: Avie's photo did appear in the Baby Beautiful issue of The Review! She looked great. Unfortunately, she wasn't one of the winners of the $50 gift certificates, which is fine because the town is a little far for me to go to get her a haircut. As her grandparents have noted, either the winners were randomly selected or the contest was rigged. My kid is certainly more adorable than some of the winning children featured. Yeah, must've been rigged....

And, speaking of Avie, plans have commenced for her first b-day bash. Have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE party planning? I am obsessed with theme parties and papercrafts and unique ways to entertain or present food or favours or cakes....

My latest obsession? Checking out the Real Parties section of Hostess with the Mostest. The photos--all of the colours and textures and details--are just scrumptious! Each entry is a visual feast for the eyes. And, the site has some wicked do-it-yourself decorating and entertaining ideas. Definitely a site to check out if you are craving some inspiration.

Have a great weekend, readers!

Waiting

So, I did it. I succumbed to the motherly instinct, and even though I know it's silly, I did it. I entered my Aviecakes into a beautiful baby contest hosted by my ol' small-town newspaper.

I'm not entirely certain of the prize--I think it's like $50 in gift certificates for local businesses--but it's not about that. It's about my gorgeous little baby girl and how her smile actually makes tears spring to my eyes. She is so beautiful and delicious and just pure bliss that I can't fathom someone saying: ''Cute? Yeah, I guess she's alright.'' C'mon! She's damn near perfect.


I know, I know, I'm biased. But aren't we all?

So, let's have a panel of editors and journalists decide for us. My baby against the 90 other children entered into the contest! (One of whom is my youngest nephew, Big LG. And his face is as delicious as Avie's, but in a toothy-grinned, Dave Letterman-esque little boy way. I won't begrudge him winning as the photo is fantastic. Kudos, Jax.)

In the meantime, I cross my fingers and wait excitedly for the results. Yes, it's a little sad that waiting for the Beautiful Baby results (Wednesday, folks--I've got to wait until Wednesday to see if her photo will be in the paper!) has me all-a-twitter, but I suppose, it beats the alternative.

I'm also waiting for the results from Brooke's CT scan and MRI. I expect good news (as she seems to be perfectly fine, head injuries aside, of course), but I am also on edge. I worry. I don't know if it is needlessly or not, but I can't seem to shake it. I feel like I've just swallowed a ball of air as I do when I have the hiccups, and that ball is just sitting there in the middle of my chest, not dispersing as it should.

And, naturally, the scans were performed on a Friday, which means we'll only hear from the doctors likely on Tuesday or Wednesday. That means I've got two or three more days to go.

I'm not certain if this worrisome feeling is entirely CT scan-related or if it is because Avie's new milestones (crawling, sitting up on her own, eating big people food, and 'Mama-ing' all over the place) is a constant reminder that the clock is ticking and the calendar pages are flying past. Maternity leave is up in just three short months.

I've got all the logistics of daycare and school registration and work routines to sort out before I return to the office (and anyone who knows me knows these sorts of things stress me out), when all I really want to do is shout 'Do over! Do over!'

It wasn't the leave I had imagined in my head and heart. It was beautiful and wild and every bit an adventure, but it wasn't restful. It wasn't peaceful. It wasn't the year full of tea parties, park picnics, and kinder-playgroups that I had hoped it to be. Don't know why I ever convinced myself that I was going to be on a 'vacation' of a sorts for a year, because I'm sure my maternity leave would have been every bit as chaotic even if B hadn't been diagnosed with Wilms!

Anyways, that puts me back to waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting.... Rest assured that I'll have news for you this week. Keep your fingers (and your toes, knees and arms) crossed for an ALL CLEAR! on the CT front. A photo of my precious babe in the newspaper would be great, too! ;)

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

Punky monkey

Decided a fresh new haircut was in order, so we headed to the Melonheads children's salon yesterday afternoon. B picked out some new hair clips and we set to work.

How daya like the new do?

To jazz it up a little, we decided to add some punky purple colour and glam glitter to B's locks. Can't really tell in this photo, but it is quite wild and punky.

And, we discovered that it is surprisingly difficult to find kid-friendly hair colour and glitter at the mall. (Finally found some on clearance at San Diego. We'll have to stock up on the junk when the stores are brimming with the stuff at Halloween!)

Anyways, I find she looks so much more grown-up now. Can't believe that just a few short months ago, B was still a baby. Now, a little girl....

And here is Avie-cakes, after a fun morning at the marina park. Lots of fresh air, sunshine and digging in the sand makes for very tired children.

B let Avie hold Baby Bunny for a little snooze while we ate our picnic lunch with B's old daycare group.

Another good day. Love you both to smithreens, girls.

Girl's got wheels

Since the chemo has pretty much scratched our plans for summer vacation (we had rented a cottage in Wasaga Beach for August, but what's the point of going to the beach if she shouldn't be in lake water?), Hubby and I are pretty adamant that we do 'things' this summer. If it means attending bbqs or going fishing at the cottage, or packing up picnic lunches and heading out to local tourist attractions, we are going to try and make this summer as pleasant as possible for her. Especially now, while she still has her energy to go out and enjoy the summer.

So, we wanted to keep to our usual Canada Day plans: the annual bbq and pool party at Permanent Waves (a friends' home) and then fireworks and bonfire at a cousins' house on the water. Brooke had a blast at both places--she was the only one who went swimming at Permanent Waves, and then spent a good portion of the day in the bounce house with the other kids, followed by a ''shooting star show that went pop, pop, pop!'' (She was so enthralled with the fireworks that Hubby went out and bought some more to set off at another time. Why are fireworks typically reserved for national holidays? We'll just save 'em for another day this summer, when there's nothing to celebrate but life itself.) and marshmallows roasted over an open fire. A great day for sure.

The highlight of the holiday by far, however, was the gift. Our crazy, wonderful friends (you know who you are) all got together to gift Brooke with her very own pink princess jeep! What a surprise!

Seeing everyone that day and knowing that they are supportive and sympathetic to our situation was love enough, but this....well, to say the least, the kid was delighted. She thought time had somehow shifted forward and that it was her birthday, even asking me why it was her birthday when the pumpkins weren't even here yet. (Thanks again, you guys!!! We oxox you.)

Anyways, she wanted to open the box right then and there, but C had wisely hidden the box in the garage to be placed into our Aztek immediately before any of the other 20 kids spotted it. We told her it would have to wait until tomorrow.

Well, morning came and she had not forgotten: ''G'morning Mommy. Where's my driver?'' she said, her hands gripping and spinning an invisible steering wheel.


We had planned to go to the cottage the next day for some R&R, so we brought the pink jeep with us. Treadwell has an impressive and impeccably kept green lawn, perfect for a first driving lesson. We even had to open the trunk and show B to prove to her that Daddy had not ''forgotten my truck.'' She then proceeded to talk about how she would drive it for the whole 20-minute car trip to the cottage.

We arrived in Treadwell and the first thing she did was tell her grandparents that she was going to drive the jeep. Of course, some assembly was required. Like he does every Christmas, Hubby wished he had had the forethought to open the box the night before so that the toy was ready to go the next day. Ooops.

Well, he and B put it together within a half-hour (B is pretty good with a wratchet), but it was the fact that the instruction manual said to charge the battery 18 hours prior to first use that stumped us. B was not going to wait another 18 hours! She was already sitting in the jeep, waiting for her Daddy to fill it up with "gas.''

So, we gave it a shot anyways. Miraculously, the battery still had enough juice to scoot her around the cottage lawn for a good hour. She was in pink princess jeep heaven--running things over, braking at the last moment, forcing pedestrians out of the way, refusing to allow other children to get in with her (''that's sister's seat, you can't sit there''), parking it sideways by the deck so she could get a snack. Just like a real Hollywood princess. (The only things missing from the scene were a pink crystal-emblazoned cell phone and a froufrou-wearing chihuahua sitting in a purse.)

The next day, we were set to babysit B's cousin, Diva Grace, for a sleepover while J&D attended a high school reunion. The Grant boys were staying with my dad for the night, so it would be just the girls (and babies) that day. Hubby had learned his lesson. He charged the battery for its full 18 hours.

The two little divas had a blast with their Girls Only day. They spent almost the entire afternoon riding around on the jeep, completely depleting the battery. It was a riot to watch them.

The little Thelma and Louise took off their shoes and hats, threw them into the trunk (and added the essentials of all good road trips--golf clubs and a Go Diego Go Halloween sticker book) and drove off into the sunshine. They stopped only to pick up the odd hitchhiker (bunnies are surprisingly good driving companions), refuel the jeep (and themselves with water bottles and popsicles), and push the car out of jams. (The Diva really is a great driver, but she occasionally got the jeep stuck at the bottom of a hill, in spite of B's insistent Go Diego Go navigations. Luckily, as diva as she is, Grace doesn't mind getting dirty when the going gets tough and B refuses to get going. Eventually, B gave up shouting orders from the passenger seat and climbed out to help her cousin push the jeep out of the sinkhole.)

Watching the two of them having fun on the jeep was like catching a glimpse of the future. I can only imagine the scrapes those two will get into when the girls morph into teenagers. It brings me great joy to know that B will beat this thing and one day, she and Grace will pack just as haphazardly for a real road trip as they did for this one.

I only hope that the girls wear their shoes next time, avoid driving on the sidewalk and remember to pack some clean underwear.

(That, and I keep my fingers crossed that B doesn't expect a real jeep when she turns 16! If she does--it's up to you guys to pitch in for it. ;)