Welcome to “What’s in My Cup”!

Tags

#whatsinmycup, family, food, tea

Summer is over and quite frankly, I feel kind of cheated and tired, and totally unprepared to swing into action. Welcome to September! I need a cup of tea!!

Every Monday this Fall (and longer if it’s a success), I’m going to indulge in tea (& warm socks) and share them with you! “What’s in my Cup?” will be a composition of tea reviews, tips & trends, recipes, quotes and photographs.

It was my Nana J. who poured my first cup on a Sunday afternoon. We were sitting around the table after a hearty meal (that almost always included pie) and she poured me a cup of “calico tea” – a teacup of milk with just enough tea to colour the milk and take the chill from it.

Tea is synonymous with the comfort and security of family.  Growing up, we had tea at large family gatherings, and when my grandparents just “popped by for a minute”. I have shared endless pots of tea and deep conversations with my Mom, and I have laughed over cups of tea with girlfriends. It’s the first thing I reach for when I drag out of bed in the morning, and the first thing I want when I’m tired or I’m sad. I lose cups of tea in odd places in my home. Tea is an integral part of my life, and this feature just makes sense.

So I’m inviting you to pour yourself a cup of tea and join me in making “What’s in My Cup?” an indulgent and integral part of your Mondays!

Cozy Indulgence: “All you need is tea and warm socks.”

***

(Feel free to share “What’s in your cup” – your tea stories, tea topic requests, and photos too!)

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Short People

Tags

family, humour, short people.

Short people got no reason to live…

The other day, Hubby commented that he has “altitude sickness”…he’s sick of my lack of altitude. I’m a staggering 5′ 1.5″ (and the .5” is very important)! As frustrating as it is for me at times (particularly when I want something off the top shelf at the grocery store), I can’t deny that my “under-tallness” isn’t frustrating for my spouse too.

They got little noses and tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes on their nasty little feet

Last night, we attended Little Guy’s Art Show, where he shared his creations from Art Camp. It meant wolfing down cold pizza and rushing out the door as soon as Hubby got home from work. According to the map given in the show’s flyer, the Senior Center where it was being held, was just north of a particular intersection. But when we drove by, it was nowhere to be seen. In addition, the big green “P” for parking led us to nowhere too. I told Hubby to park 3 blocks away at a Community Center and we’d walk.

By the time we got parked, we were late. Which meant walking quickly, in heels…and keeping up to Hubby, which was impossible. After half a block, sweating profusely with my legs and lungs screaming, I gave up on the heels. There’s nothing quite like tearing through the downtown core at 6:30 on a summer’s eve, red heels in hand and with blackened bare feet, to attend a children’s art show! (And the Senior Center was just south of the intersection)

I kept up with Hubby, but he sighed heavily outside the doors of the Senior Center, while I struggled to put my shoes back on. And yes, I walked in bare feet back to the car too!

They got little cars that got beep, beep, beep
They got little voices goin’ peep, peep, peep

We have two cars, but only one driveway. Which means if Hubby is parked behind me, I either: a) move his car and thread the needle to pass it; or b) take his car. His car used to be my car, so the thought of driving it isn’t daunting. What’s daunting is the grumbling that follows after I’ve driven it. I try my very best to return the seat (and radio) to its original position, but I inevitably fail. It’s even worse when I fail to move the seat back at all and Hubby struggles to get in enough, knees in nose, to push it back. I’d laugh at his awkwardness if looks wouldn’t kill!

They got little baby legs and they stand so low
You got to pick ’em up just to say hello

Last weekend, my parents came up to help with some long overdue repairs. While Hubby and my Dad tackled some plumbing issues in the basement, my Mom and I tackled cleaning and reorganizing my kitchen cupboards (mostly the baking, tea and spice cupboards). But since it required reaching high places, too high even for the toddler stool I keep in the kitchen, I dragged a dining room chair into the tiny space.

Inevitably, the chair was in the way whenever Hubby or my Dad needed to drag something out the back door. More sighs… Eventually Mom and I just went shopping! That was way more fun!

 

Short people got no reason to live…

Travelling is never a joy because I possess a small bladder. Actually, I’ve had tests done and it’s normal size, just…overactive! And even though I abstain from all liquids for the duration of our travels, feeling like an sponge dried in the desert the whole time, I still have to pee. Often. My parents thought I had a bathroom festish when I was a kid because I needed to “go” so often. I have a sixth sense when it comes to finding a loo…anywhere…any time. Some would call it a gift. I’m sure Hubby calls it something else.

Short people are just the same as you and I
(A fool such as I)
All men are brothers until the day they die
(It’s a wonderful world)

Yes, it’s a wonderful world and we are uniquely made. But I…I am a teeny tiny challenge to my other half at times. I just have to keep reminding him that “good things come in small packages”.

Happy Weekend!

***

Short People by Randy Newman • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing

On a Jet Plane

Tags

children, faith, family, parenting

When Big Guy was 2, he used to run after me with his arms outstretched, pumping as fast as he could on his little chubby little legs, and calling “Wait me! Wait me!” Today I feel like a 2-year old. Today he’s leaving on a jet plane for England  – partly for vacation and partly as his friend’s escort to a wedding (he’s that kind of sweet)! And I’m excited for him. Excited for the adventure he’s embarking upon but… if I’m completely honest, I’m also a little terrified.

It’s a big, big world and I’ve invested my heart and soul into keeping him safe. I’ve adjusted to him spreading his wings, living his own life…but I’ve been blessed to still have him close enough to visit often…usually with dirty laundry.  England is so far away and it’s been kinda crazy there of late…what if something bad happens! I can’t drive there in a couple of hours. In fact, the thought of hopping a plane in an emergency is more adventure than I can handle. But I would do it. If he needed me to do it!

I know he’s an adult! I know he’ll be fine! I also know the next well-meaning person to tell me these things is going to get socked “right in the kisser”!

www.flickr.com-Mark Anderson

I know these things. I believe these things. But he’s my baby! Not yours. Mine! He’s my surprise baby! He blew apart my adolescent plans and set my life on a different course. For a while there, it felt like us against the world. We’ve cheered each other on (he even offered to bury me in the woods if I didn’t survive our Mud Hero run). In many ways, we grew up together and words simply can’t explain how very precious he is, and how much I love him.

I hope he knows it.

That’s the problem with “good-byes” and “see you soons”. Your whole focus goes into the preparation and the planning. You focus on savouring the joy in the time you’re together. And suddenly, it’s time to go!

I’ve been emotional all week. It’s ridiculous, I know! Believe me, I know!! I’ve chided myself more times than the number of chocolate chips in a really big cookie. I think in part, there have been a lot of changes in the last few years, and I am missing a lot of people. I miss my grandparents who have passed away. I miss my friend who has moved away. And I miss my kids as little people. I miss those good days when we played hard and laughed often in a smaller and safer world. I miss their weight and warmth as they fell asleep cocooned in the safety of my arms. Time marches on.

All my bags are packed; I’m ready to go… ‘Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane.
– John Denver

His bags are packed by the door (including new socks and underwear!). There’s already too much to say and no time left. So at 8:30 this evening, I will wave at the sky from the window. I will pray without ceasing. And when he gets home, I want to hear all about his adventure.

I really do hope he has the time of his life!

WPC: Focus: Never Grow Old

Tags

children, family, Photo Challenge, photography, Weekly Photo Challenge

There’s something magical about bubbles, something fairy-like about their delicate iridescence and their fragile form. Their moment in time whispering childlike wonderment and happy memories as they float away.

This week’s challenge was about focus, and anyone who has made soap bubbles knows that it takes focus and patience, and often multiple attempts to form these airy spheres. Little Guy was my assistant on this particular sunny day, as I attempted over and over to capture these bubbles in time. Instead, my camera shifted the focus from the bubble to my boy, and I captured a even better moment in time! Just like this bubble, this precious child is growing up and the little boy I adore is floating away. I marvel at who he is becoming and like a bubble, I have to set him free so that he may attain his full beauty. And as he grows older, I pray his spirit never grows old.

Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old. – Franz Kafka

To see more photos, in-focus or out-of-focus, click here.

Happy Father’s Day

Tags

Dad, family, Father's Day, fathers and daughters, humour

As usual, I’m running behind posting. The idea is there (or sometimes it’s not) and I’ve written and re-written it in my head, usually in the middle of the night when I’m too lazy tired to get out of bed and look for a pencil and paper.  That, and risk exciting our guinea pig who thinks breakfast starts the moment someone stirs after a long period of silence. But I digress…

Yeah, he would look good in this! (@Pixabay)

It seems everyone, with “Daddy’s day” just around the corner, is talking about great gifts for Dad. I’m sure my Dad wouldn’t object to a new car or an Alaskan cruise, but he has me for a daughter, and I just don’t have that kind of cash. Unless the car is a Hot Wheels®.

But no, my Dad endured the annual celebration complete with lots of hugs and the usual round of crappy gifts – smeared artwork, tie cards, and jars of peanuts. One year I knit him a pair of slippers. There are only 7 shades in the rainbow…my slippers boasted 13! First, my Dad never wore slippers. Second, I didn’t have an allowance. Third, I was 11 and I didn’t know how to knit. He kept them in his dresser drawer (probably because  Mom told him he wasn’t allowed to throw them out)! They may still be there. He listens to my Mom!

Another year, I made him a jar of pickled bums! I couldn’t find the photo but it looked like this (only my “bums” were also various colours of the rainbow). I was a creative child!

I told him to throw those out last year.

One year he even got his own blog post. You should read it – I worked really hard on it and you’ll see just why he deserves so much better!

My Dad is a great guy…quiet, unassuming and patient. SO very patient! The rest of the year he put up with my fairy-princess-drama-queen-girly-girl behaviour. He even let me practice “walking down the aisle” when we walked home from figure skating practice (I think he hated every moment of it), but the practice paid off!

This year, I baked him brownies. There were from a mix. And he had to share them with the rest of the family. But in my defence, I still don’t have an allowance and it’s the thought that counts. Right?

Love you Dad!

WPC: Heritage

Tags

cemetery, family, Photo Challenge, photography, Weekly Photo Challenge

Three generations are buried in the cemetery near the former farmhouse. My great-great grandmother walked to the family woods nearby, dug up and replanted an evergreen tree at the family plot. That tree is gone now but the pallbearers had to step carefully when we buried my grandmother in 2014.  I can still picture it from the road, tall and lean, against the sky.

Out of curiousity last night, I searched the name of my great-great-great-grandparents and I found an interesting thread. Though some of the information differed (the date they left Ireland and one surname), there were some similarities (town in Ireland, 10 children – one dying at sea, and the date of their deaths (3 weeks apart)! I’m excited to dig deeper.

A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots. – Marcus Garvey

To see more photos, click here.

To My Sons

Tags

adventure, advice, blessing, children, family, humour, laugh, parent

“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” –Elizabeth Stone

Someday you will understand. Someday, you will, I hope, be a parent too, and you will understand how much your children shape and reshape you. You will experience the pain and the joy that comes from giving your heart away. You will examine your character, your relationships, and your decisions through new eyes. You will see life through the eyes of a child, and your soul will thrill to see beauty and innocence again. It is an indescribable adventure and a lifelong journey. I am privileged to share it with you.

I wanted to be a “good” and “fun” and “perfect” Mom…the kind who baked cookies and milk, who never lost her temper, who always took time to listen. I wanted to roll out of bed in the morning with a song on my lips. I wanted to be the one to wipe away your tears, and chase away your fears. To be your greatest cheerleader. To never miss celebrating a special moment. I wanted to be Mrs. Cleaver…able to gracefully solve any problem in half an hour or less. I wanted to be a “good” and “perfect” Mom…

Instead, you got a real Mom…I baked cookies (that were often burned or funny looking) and bandaged boo-boos. I tried to pay attention and never turn you away, even in the middle of the night. But I know I didn’t always do it gracefully. I didn’t always keep my temper, or put my “listening ears” on. I failed in many ways, and you will too. Humble yourself before your children when you need to – they love you any way. Treat each day as a new beginning.

Sing loudly even when you don’t know the words…make up your own. It doesn’t matter if they’re super silly or they don’t rhyme. Words like “poop” will always get a laugh. Pick dandelions. Blow bubbles. Make faces. Play. (actually that’s good advice even when you don’t have kids…)

I hope that I have given you some happy memories – things like snuggling on the couch, rescuing worms on rainy days, arts & crafts, and bedtime stories. Savour these little moments – you are giving the gift of time. Children never remember the “big” moments, the ones that adults think are important. Plan “big” moments any way!

Pray without ceasing. It is the only way that you will begin to have the strength, patience, and wisdom you will need for each day, from diapers to driving lessons, and everything in between and beyond. It is one of the most important things you can do for them, and for you!

There are many memories that I treasure in my heart. To Big Guy: “I love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be”. To Little Guy: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray…” You guys are the biggest part of my “story” – some day I’ll tell you more.    Love ya’

Mom xoxo

O is for Oaks – Vimy Oaks

Tags

#atozchallenge, Canada, family, history, remembrance

The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn. -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Every Canadian child will be taught about the battle of Vimy Ridge, which history marks as an iconic milestone in shaping Canada’s national identity. I think it’s important for our kids to know the parts their country played in those two world conflicts, and the costs. I have shared my family’s story with my kids because I want them to understand the personal cost. After the war, our world had to learn to reconcile our differences and strive to build a better world for the next generation.

This weekend, my aunt share a story that has been a 100 years in the making!

In 1917, following the battle of Vimy Ridge, Lt. Miller went for a walk on the battlefield, and gathered a handful of acorns. The regal oak trees he had written about seeing all over France, were destroyed. He sent those acorns to his family in Canada and asked that they be planted. Two years later, he returned home, married his sweetheart and started his farm, Vimy Oaks. The small acorns were starting too.

Tall  oaks from little acorns grow. – Proverb

In 1950, a random veteran saw the farm’s sign and decided to make inquiries. The two veterans of Vimy became fast friends, often working together on Miller’s farm. Miller, not having children of his own, enjoyed the company of the veteran and his boys. After the farm was sold in the 1960’s, one of the boys, Monty, continued to visit the Millers. Lt. Miller passed away in 1979 at the age of 90.

In 2004, Monty took his wife to Europe to retrace his father’s war experiences and visit the Vimy Memorial. He was struck by the bare landscape, and he started to think about the Oaks at the Farm.

Ideas are acorns. They’re only powerful because that acorn becomes an oak tree. – Bob Clemans

By 2014, the oaks were 10 metres high. With the help of the Vimy Foundation and a local nursery, shoots from the acorns were grafted onto root stock from British Columbian oaks. But the process to certify them for transportation to France was too complex.

In the Summer of 2016, Monty and his grandchildren gathered acorns from the Vimy Oak grove. They were taken to a nursery in France, where they were germinated and continue to grow. Meanwhile, with the help of donations, a small parcel of land has been purchased near the Canadian National Vimy Memorial, and once it has been de-mined in 2018, the tiny oaks will be planted. Beauty after the battle.

May our children, like these acorns, grow tall and strong and steadfast,
and may they always know peace.

 

N is for My Nana’s Hands

Tags

#atozchallenge, family, poetry

So still. Resting gently on the starched, white bed sheets. Her hands, almost blue, the skin paper thin and translucent, barely stretched across bone and ligament. Her hands, finger tips once nicked by sewing needles deftly weaving stitches in colourful patchwork wonders to swathe a newborn or shroud an invalid. Her hands, once calloused, fingernails caked with mud, tending vegetables in a patchwork of soil, or coated with sugar and flour and butter, a patchwork of dishes served to family and neighbours. Her hands, red and chapped from washing soiled bedding and soothing fevered brows, gently caring for aging relatives and growing children. Her hands, scarred but strong, competently filling heavy responsibilities on a farm, in a home. Her hands, young and supple, stroking the hands of her beautiful babies, marvelling at their size, reaching to caress the hand of the man she loves. Her hands, small and smooth reaching to move the checker across the game board, reaching for her doll in the night. Her hands, so small, fingernails like little pearls, resting gently on the starched, white bed sheets. So still.

***

H is for Hineni

Tags

#atozchallenge, faith, family

I’ll be honest. I struggled with “H”. So many “H” words come to mind, and this time of year, heartbreak & hope are knit tightly together for me. I can’t begin to share my grief, not yet, not now. But another “H” word has surfaced recently, and I want to watch for where it might surface in my own life, either as a gift to me or a gift I can give.

Hineni.  It’s a powerful Hebrew word that means “Here I am”. It is an offer of total availability. It is a call to unconditional devotion and a willingness to sacrifice.

To a broken soul, to a frightened child, to an insecure wife it can mean:

I am present. I am listening. I am going to take care of you. I am going to comfort you. I am going to stay. I am going to walk with you through this.

Months ago I read a story about a photo a husband took of his wife, sleeping next to her daughter in the crib. The wife later explained the promise she had made to her little girl.

Just before their daughter was born, this Mom heard a missionary speak about an orphanage he visited in Africa. In its nursery, were 100 cribs with 100 babies, but there were no sounds. No gurgles or coos. No crying. Just silence.  When he asked the host why it was so quiet, she explained that “after about a week of them being here, and crying out for countless hours, they eventually stop when they realize no one is coming for them”.

This breaks my heart.

I believe, at the heart of every person, is a deep need to have someone in their life who will say Hineni – Here I am!

Little Guy once asked me “How much do you love me?” and I answered him. I didn’t know at the time that I could have summed up my whole explanation in one word: Hineni – Here I am. Here I will always be. I am present. I am listening. I will comfort you. I will guide you. I will walk with you. I offer you my unconditional love and I am willing to sacrifice everything for you.

It’s how a parent should respond to their child. It’s how spouses should respond to one another. It’s how friends should respond too. I pray I have responded this way to my family and friends, thousands of times. And I pray that it will be thousands more.